


Hiraeth

by Ashelh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashelh/pseuds/Ashelh
Summary: Hiraeth (n.) a deep, inborn sense of yearning for a home, a feeling, a place or a person that is beyond this plane of existence.Elara doesn't think she can truly be herself without harsh judgement from her father, brothers, and friends. They'll think she's weird, lying, a fake, because she's been hidden behind a mask for so long. Theo Nott teaches her not to give a fuck what people think. And she didn't know how desperate she was for that feeling. THe one she gets with him. Theo, of all people.
Relationships: Theodore Nott/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because Theo Nott needs more attention and a happy ending for once in his (usually short) life. 
> 
> I know it's not the best fanfic, nor am I the best writer, but I enjoy writing and putting it out there for those who will read it. Also, I hate Wattpad with a passion. Hope you enjoy :)

**_SEPTEMBER 1ST 1996_ **  
  


_Sirius had died. Voldemort returned, everyone could see it, there was no need to deny anymore._

_Death Eaters were scrambling around. The weight of their failure and exposure hanging around them like chain mail. They were trying to get away but the wards wouldn't let them._

_And then soon, the black fog had been swallowed by the light. One by one, each of them were taken away by the Aurors and the members of The Order of the Phoenix._

_Others who had not been captured yet were duelling with everything they had._

_And then, a man was there. Wrinkles crowding his forehead and scrunched up nose. Brown curly hair matted with sweat dripping over his brow bone. His mask had fallen so his wand was drawn._

_He knew he could no longer hide, so he had an urge to kill._

_He did not want to go to Azkaban._

_Elara knew something was bad from the moment she saw his eyes; they shot daggers through her mother, glistening with a thirst for blood._

_Elara was trying to get her away, pulling at the sleeves of her Auror robes to leave, disapparate, but she never budged._

_Helen was brave, and was glad to duel with the man to protect the people around her. It was her job. Something she usually thrived at._

_Madness surrounded them with spells, hexes and killing curses flying around._

_People had been captured, giving the Aurors time to take away members of Dumbledore's Army and get them to the safety of St Mungo's._

_Nymphadora Tonks had grabbed Elara by the waist. She was kicking and screaming, begging for her to let her go, move away and let it be — something bad was going to happen. The Death Eater was getting the upper hand._

_Tonks was trying to calm her, but Elara's intuition was always right, it never failed her._

_This Death Eater was going to kill her mother._

_She was strong, but these people were evil. They have no morals. Everything they do they think is right, they don't care. That's what makes them dangerous._

_"She's done this before."_

_"She'll be fine."_

_"Calm yourself Elara! You're losing too much blood."_

_"We need to get you to St Mungo's with the others!"_

_She was forced to watch unwillingly from afar as her mother slowly became cornered, Death Eaters approaching her from all sides. Tonks ordered for more of the Order or Aurors to assist, but they didn't get there in time._

_There was a burst of emerald light that sprouted out vivaciously from the mans wand. It shot her mother through the centre of her chest, just skimming the side of her heart._

_And she was dead._

_"Elara!"_

A nudge to her ribs made her jerk awake. Amber's smiling face was in hers.

_It was the nightmare again wasn't it?_

"You fell asleep in the middle of our conversation, rude don't you think?" She poked Elara's side again and the girl groaned. "Now I have to tell you everything from the beginning." She sat herself even closer to her and began speaking animatedly with her hands.

And as she spoke, Elara rubbed her temple with the heel of her palm, bringing her back to reality. I'm on the Hogwarts Express going into my sixth year. Amber is sitting at my side, chewing my ear off and Hannah is giggling in front of me. Mother is dead, yes, but we're not there anymore, we're here.

". . . So he told me that I needed to get out before his girlfriend gets back. I mean, he chose that moment to tell me. I felt so horrible after for whoever his girl is and I can't even warn her that her boyfriend's a cheating scum! Muggle boys really are the worst — so like I said, I'm never going there again."

"Oh Amber," Elara tutted. "You'd be saying otherwise if you met my neighbour," for more effect, she fake smirked, straightened her posture and forced herself to pay attention to the conversation instead of the repeated horror that was seventy-five days ago.

Slipping into her mask.

"Aren't the Weasley's your neighbours?" Hannah questioned with an arched brow.

Amber steered the conversation back to her after an odd look in Elara's direction.

From simply seeing her hooded eyes and trembling fingers, she knew she didn't want to talk right then and there. Elara just needed a few more moments to gather her mind.

"Yes, they are her neighbours. But she means the other one, from across the road, not over the field. Apparently he has gorgeous blonde hair and eyes that are like none other than she's seen before — but that isn't the point here. The point is that I'm reclaiming my virginity."

Elara smacked her hand over her mouth but it didn't help when she burst into a loud harsh cackle of laughter. One that had her shoulders bouncing and her stomach aching.

She really could always trust Amber to take her mind off of things. Her and Hannah exchanged a glance and she began laughing too. Her fiery hair falling over her face as she held her mouth and nose to muffle small snorts that escaped. They both were beside themselves in a sort of hysterics.

"You — you're. I'm sorry — reclaiming your virginity."

Amber watched them both with a straight face, as if what she said hadn't been completely ridiculous.

"That's n-not — a thing!"

She had forgotten all about the nightmare.

Amber crossed her arms over her chest and flicked an ebony curl over her shoulder in a huff. Her eyes narrowed before they rolled to the back of her head and she was defending herself. "I most certainly can. It's like beliefs, people change them all the time. So why can't I change the fact that I had sex?"

Elara placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, shaking her head, tear ducts becoming heavier. "Sweetie if only it was that simple. I think everyone regrets their first time, it's only natural."

Then Amber decided to laugh too, but not for the same reasons as Hannah and Elara, who had both calmed it a little. "That's rich 'Lara, coming from your virgin arse. Tell me," her head tilted and she leered at her. "Do you plan on getting laid this year or are you going to be submerged with school again?" Amber raised her brows to encourage an answer, but Elara only pressed her lips into a line and stayed quiet. "Exactly."

Elara grew irritated and stuck her forefinger held up in the air in Amber's direction.

"Okay, to be fair — I'm a prefect trying to secure the Head Girl position for next year. I'm taking most of the advanced classes. I said I'd help Neville with his Charms this term and I said I'd help Hermione with S.P.E.W if she needed it, and also. . ."

She lost her train of thought and they all paused for a moment.

Hannah scoffed. "That's far too much on your plate. You realise Neville can get a tutor elsewhere and Hermione can ask one of her golden boys?" She knew it was too much, but it's what's expected of her.

_Be perfect. Be a Hufflepuff. Be the perfect daughter. Don't stray from what you've been told you are. People don't like what they don't expect._

Hannah Abbott is a Hufflepuff too, but Amber is a Gryffindor. Amber is the younger sister of Angelina Johnson, and they're a lot alike, but she hates being told it. She's a chaser on the Quidditch team — just like Angelina was. They both have a thing for gingers and being the most honest and confident versions of themselves. Elara would say the only difference is their age. Hannah is like Elara but a much more quieter and reserved version. She's part of the choir, a fanatic for the art of Divination, the mum of the group and lover of all Ravenclaw boys, especially those on the Quidditch team.

Elara was about to reply to Hannah's comment, but Luna Lovegood had slid their compartment door open, smiling brightly. Her long, curly, platinum hair was pulled to the side in a pony-tail. She wore unique, pink glasses in her hair, a darker pink jacket and royal blue tights. She also had a stack of Quibbler copies in her arms.

"Quibbler, girls?"

Hannah declined while Amber accepted, happily flipping through the pages. Elara pulled her cat Lady from her lap. "Luna, would you like help with those? I can't imagine how heavy they might be."

_Hufflepuffs are kind and generous._

Luna's face lit up in a heavenly smile and she nodded. "That would be lovely," she passed half of her stack to Elara and started out the door.

She followed before turning back to Amber quickly, hand peeking through the door and eyes narrowed in on the Gryffindor. "Don't feed Lady anything, and I'll know if you do, she doesn't need another upset stomach due to Fizzing Whizzbees"

Amber raised her hands in defence and leaned back in her seat as Elara left behind Luna.

"I'll do every other compartment, yes?"

The dreamy blonde agreed and walked a little further than the girl. She began handing them out to the students — most of them being forth, to seventh years and all houses other than Slytherin. They prefer the Daily Prophet —Merlin knows why all that's across those pages are lies.

After handing three copies out to a compartment of judgemental fifth year Ravenclaws, Elara moved to the next carriage, and she was filled with excitement when she saw who was sat there.

She knocked on the window before sliding the door, she leaned herself on the frame as the three heads turned to look at her.

"Elara!" Hermione beamed, jumping out of her seat and bringing Elara into a tight embrace. Harry fidgeted in his seat behind them and Ron was smiling up at the girl.

"We missed you at the burrow this summer, though we understand why you didn't feel like joining. . .are you okay?"

_Ah, that question. To put it simply: no. To make it more complex by not wanting to seem weak or worry other people with her own burdens: yes._

Holding Hermione's forearms and softening her face, Elara said, "I'm doing better now I'm here, even with. . . well you know what with. Amber and Hannah have been distracting me a little."

Hermione moved back into her seat and Elara offered them copies of the Quibbler, which they denied. Something told her that they were in a tense conversation of some sorts before she knocked.

"So, I'm not interrupting anything am I? You all seem so. . . on edge."

_Too nosey._

Harry shook his head and brought himself up from his dim mood. "With everything going on I think it'd be a little strange if nobody was on edge." His face lowered and was dragged into a pool of sadness for a moment, and Elara only needed to catch a glimpse to offer a hand.

"I'm sorry about Sirius by the way, I was too stuck in my own grief I didn't have the time to say anything,"

He squeezed her hand, "It's fine, really, I understand, she was your mother."

"And Sirius was your Godfather. I shouldn't have been so insensitive to ignore you all."

Everything was still and awkward. Ron and Hermione shared glances with each other and looked to be having their own conversation with their eyes.

Harry gave Elara a small smile when she glanced over at him and he squeezed her hand once more before letting go.

"It's fine. I, erm, was actually going to go get some fresh air." He stood from his seat, reached overhead and pulled something out of his bag and tucked it into his pocket. "I'll be back. It was good seeing you, Elara, of course."

The three watched as he left with the similar expressions. Solemn.

"So. . . I'll be going too, said I'd help Luna with these," she gestured at the Quibbler copies and smiled. "But we should all study together during the week, you both know how big the first stack is."

Hermione lit up inside — of course. She closed her book and agreed, and when Ron didn't reply she nudged him with her elbow and he forced an enthusiastic 'yes.'

"Right well take care you two, sorry about the erm, awkwardness," she laughed, wrong thing to do. "You'll know where to find me if you need me."

Elara bent down and hugged Hermione again, then Ron who gave her a polite kiss on the cheek. And she left the carriage and continued the favour.

—

Draco was being a dick.

Theo was on the verge of tackling him to the ground and punching some happiness or something else up and into him to cheer the fucker up. He was laying down on the cushioned seat and his head was in Pansy's lap. She was running her perfectly manicured fingers through his obnoxious blonde hair.

Blaise and Theo sat opposite, watching Pansy's face as she tried to hide her excitement and blush.

It was revolting how giddy she was. The two weren't even together.

But Pansy liked the simple things, and was never one for grand displays of affection. She rarely hugged people, and she was probably glad after all these years Draco was finally noticing her.

Theo was happy for her, though he suspected his interest in her was not for the right reasons.

After talking profusely about how outrageous his father's trial had been, Draco huffed and sat up, bushing his hands over his all-black statement suit. "The people on this train. . ." He had mumbled, before standing and reaching into an overhead compartment and shifting through his briefcase.

"Reckon Goldilocks woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" Blaise whispered to Theo, keeping his eyes on Draco who was cursing repeatedly under his breath. One became louder as a student accidentally nudged him.

"I'd reckon Goldilocks doesn't even have a bed anymore the way he's been acting."

Astoria Greengrass and Tracey Davis snickered from the other side of the train, at a table with Crabbe and Goyle, obviously listening in on their conversation.

Blaise rolled his eyes and turned his back to them, looking at Theo. And he was surprised to see his eyes dark and serious, and his forehead home to one line where he scrunched his face up.

"Do you think. . .?"

Pansy gasped before Theo could reply.

Blaise had forgotten she was there, and now she was outraged, it was clear. If it had been possible her ears would be bursting with steam.

She leaned across the table and her eyes narrowed into evil slits. "Don't be so ridiculous. He'd tell us if that had happened, you're forgetting he's Draco. He's the boy who acted like a scratch to the arm was a stab in the eye. Just to make sure the beast that did it was executed."

Sharing a glance and mirroring each other's actions, the two boys leaned back in their seats, letting that piece of information settle.

She was right.

As much as Draco Malfoy was rich, pureblooded and powerful, he was a pussy. He's the boy who has been knocked on his arse numerous times by Potter and straight after ran to the Owlery to write a letter to Lucius, insisting that he find a way to get the other boy expelled.

But still. Theo, unlike Blaise and Pansy, did think that was possible. Theo's own father — Theodore Nott Sr — had tried to encourage him to seek a place in Voldemort's ranks, accept the mark.

He wiped a hand down his face, as if it could melt away that whole conversation. All of it. The shouting. The smashing. The hitting. All because he refused and said he'd rather die first than have that on his forearm and say he was proud.

His father never mentioned this to anyone — we're talking about his refusal now — he didn't want to have to disown his son. But he promised Theo that if Voldemort ever wanted him to commit to his side — he'd have no choice.

Then, the whole section of the train had gone dark. Theo thought he had had his eyes closed until it feathered out into black sparkles and he could see the outlines of Pansy again.

"What was that?" Draco sneered walking back to the table. "Blaise?" he pushed for an answer, sitting back down, this time without his head in Pansy's lap.

"I dunno," the boy said quietly back — nobody was in the mood for Draco today.

Students around were coughing and complaining. Pansy fought the urge to tell them to all calm down and grow up. Instead, she settled for: "Relax. . .It was probably just some lousy first year messing around. Alright? We'll be at Hogwarts soon."

Draco scoffed — Theo was picturing that idea of him with a bloody nose and in a better mood that didn't drag everyone around him down. He looked out the window to try and hide the fact he was smiling at the same time the blonde spoke up again, complaining. "Hogwarts. . . the most pathetic excuse for a school. I think I'd rather throw myself off the Astronomy Tower than continue for another two years."

"Well that's not very pleasant is it?"

Theo turned his head at a new voice in their conversation. Elara Hunt was standing there — Theo knew little of her. He knew she was a Hufflepuff Prefect, and her house's little Princess.

Elara stood there in Muggle clothing still — a crisp-white shirt, tucked into a pale pink skirt and a headband that matched and kept her hair from her face which showed her dainty silver earrings — and hand an arm full of brightly coloured magazines. She wore a smile on her face as usual but her eyes told a different story when she looked at Draco.

Malfoy had ignored her remark.

She looked away from him and brushed over the other people sitting around the table, her eyes hovered for a split second longer on Theo. Elara knew he was a Slytherin, his father was a Death Eater and he was friends with Draco Malfoy, but she would never deny that he wasn't attractive.

"Pansy, Blaise, Theo. Quibbler?" She moved her arm forward slightly so they could see the cover. _Wrackspurts_. Pansy looked at Draco who was playing with his rings and looking lifelessly out of the window. She sighed to herself and flicked some of her hair over her shoulder, then looked back at Elara.

"We're good thanks. All of us"

Her words were a little cold but the Hufflepuff took no offence. It's not like if she did she could say anything. Being rude isn't exactly one of her house's traits.

Theo watched as the girl smiled and turned to the next table, where Goyle, Crabbe, Astoria and Tracey sat. When she walked over and said a few words that were inaudible to the boy, Astoria shot out of her seat and brought the girl into a hug.

He didn't notice Pansy, Blaise and even Draco were watching too, all with raised brows.

"Lara! It's good to see you, _my_ you're gorgeous. Are you okay? How was your summer?" Elara turned slightly, holding onto Astoria's forearms as she spoke, Theo and Blaise had a clear view of her face while Pansy and Draco only caught her side-profile.

The Slytherins thought it was odd that she was friends with a high-society Pureblood daughter like Astoria. They didn't know her blood status, but she wasn't a Pureblood like them.

"I'm doing. . . good, all things considered. I'm sure you're aware nothing like that is easy. And summer was. . . _bland_."

_Like what?_

Astoria pouted and hugged the girl again, not caring for the corner of a few Quibbler copies digging into her side. When she pulled away she cupped the girl's face. "You know if you ever need _anything_ you can come to me, I may be a Slytherin but it does not mean I'm cold-blooded."

Blaise and Theo shared a short glance.

Elara smiled and was released from the other girls hold. "Of course, Astoria, thank you. But, if it's okay with you I have to be going. I promised Luna I'd help her with these," she gestured to the magazines. "And a new professor would like to see me in a few moments."

They exchanged a few more words and Astoria had moved out of the way for her to walk past and leave this section of the train. When the younger Greengrass was seated, she was met with seven pairs of eyes staring at her, bewildered.

"What?" she shrugged.

"Why in the world are you talking to someone like that, who's not a Pureblood?" Draco sneered. Theo would have asked the same, though not as viciously — of course he cared about blood purity, just not as much as Draco — as he wondered why and when the two had gotten to that level of friendship.

Astoria curled her lip at Draco. "She's a nice girl — helped me with Potions last year, and it turns out she's quite good company," she tilted her head questioningly. "Why? Is there a problem my dear Slytherin Prince?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, if you couldn't already tell, and Theo wanted to laugh.

"Her blood isn't pure, you don't need to taint yourself with her company, Astoria."

Crabbe and Goyle huffed. "She's hot Malfoy, I don't understand the problem if she's around us more." Theo rolled his eyes when Goyle licked his lips and looked back at Crabbe who agreed.

The girl laughed and leaned more over the table so she could give Malfoy a disgusted look from up close. "Not the point Goyle. And Malfoy. . .its really not like we're cutting up our palms and holding hands is it? Calm the fuck down and worry about yourself rather than others."

Theo decided to cut in before Draco could say something more — which Astoria was quietly thankful for. Draco went back to laying his head on Pansy's lap and ignoring everything.

"If you don't mind me asking, what were you asking her if she's okay about?"

Astoria leaned back in her seat and shook her head simply. "It's not my place to say, she wrote me about it in confidence and I won't betray that. You should understand, _slytherin_ _loyalty_." She looked him over and raised her defined brow. "Why do you ask?"

All eyes were on Theo then, other than the two opposite him. He shrugged lazily and shook his head, turning back to the window.

Elara Hunt. She seemed too perfect — not for Theo of course, she wasn't necessarily his type.

When he talks about being too perfect, he talks about the way she carries herself around school. Theo doesn't know much about the girl, as we said, but he's seen her in the halls since first year. Her chin was always held high and she said 'hello' to everyone she passed.

She's popular, with a large friend group she's often seen with, her always being in the centre of the conversation. She's a prefect, which means good student, with no doubt high grades that could rival his, Draco's and the golden girl, Hermione Granger's.

Elara is a Hufflepuff. Kind, generous, hard-working. She's the blueprint.

But. . . could the blueprint fray at the edges? Crumple? Crease?

She helped a girl everyone thinks is odd and strange hand out her father's _odd_ and _strange_ magazines.

And yes, she is a beautiful girl, but not Theo's type.

Theo likes his girls rough around the edges — confident, but not cocky; not afraid to break the rules; passionate.

Too perfect.

There had to be _something_ under there, maybe not the edge he likes, but there had to be something that ruined her blueprint.

Her perfection, it irked him.

"Just curious."

—

"Very best evenings to you all."

Elara looked away from where she was chatting with Hannah and Susan to the front of the Great Hall, where Dumbledore was standing smiling down at all of his students.

"First off, let me introduce the newest member of our staff. . .Horace Slughorn." Students began clapping and Dumbledore motioned to a professor sitting at the very end of the table. He was a wrinkled man, quite aged, and wore what looked like brown graduation attire. The man stood and bowed.

"What do you wanna bet that he's the new Defence Professor?" Susan whispered from behind her.

Elara looked over her shoulder and smiled. "I wouldn't be so sure," she said with a smirk.

"Wait, is he the professor that asked to see you and a few other students on the train?" asked Hannah from her other side. Elara nodded and brushed over the topic of the 'Slug Club' the new Professor had talked about, and how he offered her a spot in it — she accepted of course. He then began to talk about his new position at the school, which most students would be surprised to learn that it wasn't as the Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor.

"Professor Slughorn, I'm happy to say, has agreed to assume his old post. . .as potions master. Meanwhile the post of Defence Against The Dark Arts, will be taken by Professor Snape."

All students that weren't a member of Slytherin house hesitated for a moment before clapping. Some muttered words to the people besides them, repeating his name to make sure they were aware of what they were hearing.

Elara's eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table out of sheer curiosity. Most of them had devilish smirks and dark eyes as they rooted for their head of house. Most of them. Draco Malfoy, was among the little who were silent. His head was propped up in his hand and he looked blankly at the empty space in front of him.

Beside the boy, was his friend Theo Nott, from the train. He too looked glum, though when Pansy would lean over and said something in his ear, he'd smile and reply.

Theo then pulled his head away from where it was leaning forward as he talked to Blaise. Like gravity, or a magnet, he sensed her, and looked in Elara's direction. She felt cold as he looked at her, making no move to look away. His eyes, she noticed even from afar, were a soft blue, though they seemed dark from his heavy lids and dark lashes. If it were anyone else she would have dropped my gaze, but she felt herself being drawn closer.

He raised a brow as she held the gaze, and she absentmindedly straightened out her posture.

There was something about him that felt. . . familiar?

 _Nonsense_.

Her brain snapped her back when Susan began conversing with her — she was asking if perhaps she'd be invited to this 'Slug Club' Elara had mentioned. She didn't say it, but Elara knew she wouldn't get in. Susan was bright, but she was always stuck on something else that stopped her from going that extra step forwards.

She could hear Dumbledore's voice in the distance as she contemplated looking back over at the Slytherin table. Quickly, but not too quickly, she turned her head and looked back over.

Theo wasn't looking at her.


	2. Chapter 2

**_SEPTEMBER 2nd 1996_ **  
  


_"As you know, each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight. And you have the right to know why. . .Once, there was a young man, who like you sat in this very hall, walked these castle's corridors, slept under_ _I_ _ts roof. He seemed to all the world: a student, like any other. His name? Tom Riddle."_

_An eerie feeling washed over the girl, clinging tight to her skin like it was a life-line. Her throat was tight — like someone was holding it, and her hands were glued to the table by an invisible force that_ _a_ _ffected nobody else._

_"Today of course, he'd known all over the world by another name. Which is why, as I stand, looking out upon you all tonight. I'm reminded of a certain sobering fact."_

_Elara tested whether or not her hands could move_ — _and they couldn't._ _She looked around the table for someone to notice this, but nobody was looking at her, everyone was watching Dumbledore._

_"Every day, every hour, this very minute perhaps. . ._ _dark forced attempt to penetrate this castle's walls."_

_She followed everyone's gaze and the sound of the headmaster's voice to the front where he was standing at his golden owl podium. She gasped._

_His hands were an ashen shade of black, his neck the same, with streaks of it crawling past his long, white beard. Elara looked around_ — _nobody seemed bothered._

 _She looked back up and blood was trickling out of his eyes and nose_.

_Why wasn't anyone doing anything?_

_"But in the end, their greatest weapon. . ._ _is you." He smiled and his teeth were covered in blood to_ — _the blond leaking from his nose. Her panic had sky-rocketed. "Just something to think about." She skimmed over the crowd again, calm, calm, calm, until she saw a flash of platinum blonde._

_Draco looked disturbed._

_Elara looked to the person next to him._

_Theo also looked disturbed._

Elara woke that morning wondering why on earth she had a nightmare about Dumbledore's speech from last night. And why he was dying in it. Why nobody noticed. Why her, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott were the only people that registered what was happening in front of them.

Her muscles ached and her hair stuck to the back of her neck. She was uncomfortable.

Elara lifted her pillow and shoved her head under it, muffling out any noise that may appear. She then debated whether or not school was actually worth it. Wondered if having one less prefect would affect anything, or one detention would be ignored on her perfect record. . .

_Of course school is worth it._

Slowly and reluctantly, she uncovered her face from under the pillow. She blinked, closed her eyes, and blinked again. When she pulled the drapes of her bed open and streaks of sunlight soared through the window and almost blinded her, her face tensed and she looked in the other direction of the window to adjust to the light.

Elara sat up, dragged her feet off the bed, and rubbed her knuckles into her eyes. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned.

The year was going to be a long one.

Half an hour later, she had showered, dressed, made herself look presentable, stuffed her needed equipment into her bag and left her dorm for the great hall. She had noticed Hannah hadn't been in the dorm when she woke so Elara assumed she was already down there with Amber.

Amber. . .she wasn't even ready for the amount of gossip she was likely to have. Amber is easily the nosiest person in school, somehow, for reasons Elara does not know, she knows everything. Perhaps it was her gorgeous looks and extroverted personality that made her so easy to open up to. Or, she was good at eavesdropping.

She rolled her eyes at the thought."

Elara turned the final corner into the great hall. It was daylight, so there were no dimly-lit candles hovering over the four long tables, where students were dotted along. Just like every other day, those tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, sipping their preferred beverages before classes.

She wiped on a smile greater than the one she was already wearing — just to be sure — and walked over to the Hufflepuff table, in the middle of the students in her year — how it always was.

"Good morning, my love," Zacharias Smith cheered, a boy with curly blonde hair, striking green eyes and always a sweet expression. He shuffled closer to Elara and placed a kiss on her temple.

She didn't blush, instead, she pressed her finger to his lips when he pulled away and pushed his head away from hers. "I've told you one-million and three times Zach, this," she used the same finger to point between them both. "Is never going to happen."

Zach smiled and pushed a bowl of fruits over to her, she returned the smile — as she would do with anyone. "Elara Hunt, you may have said that but _you_ are the only girl for me."

"Woman."

He kept his eyes on Elara, who was placing a few strawberries in front of her as well as a yogurt pot. Zach understood that he could never get beyond a friendship level with the girl,and he didn't mind, but he loved teasing her with his slight crush that would probably never go away.

Susan sat Elara's left, next to her, April and Ernie Macmillan. On the other side of Zach sat Justin Finch-Fletchley and Oliver Short. Opposite Elara, Hannah, and on her left, Rosa May and Daniel Davis. The space on the other side of Hannah was for Amber, who was absent —

"Oh what a lovely start of the year, My little Hufflepuffs!" _And there she is._ "You will _never_ guess what I have learned since I last saw your beautiful faces."

Elara took a bite from one of her strawberries dipped in yogurt and looked at Amber, silently begging for permission to spill it all. Her pupils were wide and her mouth twitched in the smile it formed.

"Out with it then Amber," Elara giggled. The gryffindor swung her legs over the seat and rested her elbows on the table. Leaning closer, she burst.

"So I'll start small. . . Marietta Edgecombe, Cho Chang's friend? Yeah, well those spots Granger slapped on her face with that spell — still there! I know, unlucky but really what did she expect? Okay, okay and Millicent Bulstrode, slytherin girl, you already know her. . .well, lost about, I don't even know how many pounds — looks like a different person but honestly? Good for her. . ."

Elara listened as if she were underwater, silently nibbling at her fruits and nodding and fake-gasping whenever she needed to. Zach had moved closer and slung an arm around her shoulder, leaning in and genuinely listening to Amber, releasing gasps and little comments.

". . . And Ron Weasley, trying out for Quidditch again — keeper, just like last year. With him, me, Harry and Ginny, then whoever else is trying out that will be good, because honestly? We have standards, we'll be unstoppable."

Zach laughed and his chest moved him and down, jolting Elara slightly as she brought a spoonful of yogurt to her lips — she had eaten all edible-looking strawberries.

"Okay how much longer are you going to be talking about Quidditch? Merlin you are so much like Angelina — she was the same, of course you know. When she came 'round to see my sister that's all they'd ever talk about."

Elara waved a hand and stopped Zach from speaking on, knowing he could chew her ear off even more than Amber.

"Anything else in that hair of yours worth knowing? Because I —" She looked down at her dainty watch and sighed. "— Promised to help Sprout with planting Mandrakes for the second year students in fifteen."

Amber tilted her head and groaned, giving her that look that she was 'being no fun.' "Yes. . . actually. Last night in the common room a little birdie told me that someone named _Dean_ _Thomas_ has a slight crush on you."

Dean Thomas, Elara's first crush at Hogwarts, and her very awkward first and only kiss.

"Lies." She shook her head and took Zach's arm off of her shoulders. "I saw him and Ginny together on the train and let me tell you they looked _quite_ happy. And, even if they weren't together, and he was very much into me — I wouldn't be interested."

At that point Susan joined the conversation. "Are you mad?" She whisper-shouted. "That boy — man. . . is practically carved from the gods themselves, and on top of that, is hilarious."

Elara agreed. "Yes, but my crush ended with our kiss — it was, as I told you both, very awkward and rid me of anything I felt towards him." She held her hand out and sliced it through the air beside her for simple emphasis.

She cast her gaze around the room looking for Sprout handing out the last of the schedules as Amber and Susan gawked at her.

"There's something wrong with you, like eternally, you know that right?" Amber asked with her head in her hands and a disappointed look that was shown in her eyes and brows. Elara laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Perhaps I'm just not a relationship kind of person. Maybe I'm meant to be alone."

—

Fifteen minutes later, after being handed her schedule and listening to the rest of Amber's gossip, Elara walked down to the Greenhouses behind the castle to help out before classes started at nine.

The place was swallowed in green — vines practically covered every glass wall and if they didn't, a large blue or yellow plant did. Laid out in the middle were empty brown plant pots filled a little with soil, and besides them tennis-ball-sized Mandrake seeds.

She made her presence known by a knock on the glass door that was opened all the way. Professor Sprout rose from where she was picking up spilled soil from the floor and smiled warmly at the girl.

"Ah! Good to see you again Miss Hunt. I had forgotten to confirm whether or not you'd be here."

Professor Sprout was bustling around the greenhouse wearing her beige coat, hat and gloves. Her grey, curly hair was shorter than last year and she had a spot of dirt sat on her pink cheek.

Elara walked into the room and slipped on a coat of her own. "Of course Professor, you know me — I prefer to keep my promises." She smiled at the woman and received one in return.

"Yes, yes, always has been the helpful sort. I won't be surprised if Dumbledore chooses you as Head Girl next year."

Elara picked up the seeds from the table and began the planting. "I'm hoping so. It'd be an honour helping the school — I've always loved it." _Lies_. She wished she had more spare time to be in her own company.

"How very. . . Hufflepuff of you."

Both women turned their attention to the door. Where, surprisingly, Theo Nott was, leaning against the frame and grimacing at the sight that surrounded him. A sneer covered his lips and he looked pissed off.

When he acknowledged the two women in front of him he took an extra moment to eye Elara, who as always looked pleasant — it was boring. He scoffed quietly and gave her a once-over before turning to Sprout and raising his brows.

Her expression was bland.

"Ah, Mr Nott," she said blankly. "Help yourself to an overcoat and some gloves, then help Elara with the planting." She turned away from the boy and walked around the table so she was closer to the girl.

"I hope you don't mind dear, this is his punishment for being out past curfew last night. If he's being a pain let me know I'll be in there." She pointed to greenhouse two, just opposite the one they were in and smiled as she left. Elara couldn't deny, it was infectious.

When Sprout was in the other greenhouse Elara looked lazily over to the coat rack. Theo stood there, hand at his chin and his other holding his opposite elbow, looking over the different shades of beige.

"They're clean you know, charmed by Sprout," she said matter-of-factually. He looked over his shoulder at her, and eyed the one she was wearing, seeing that even though her hands were dirty with soil, her coat had not one spec on it.

His curious glance turned to a glare as he met her eyes. "Doesn't mean I want to wear them — they're hideous."

Elara didn't want to argue. She continued planting and didn't look back at him as she spoke. "Suit yourself, but your school clothes would get dirty and I can't imagine someone like you would want that."

She heard some movement and then a long pause, she looked up from the plant pot and Theo was standing there, arms folded and eyes narrowed. "Someone like me?" He repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Of course _people like him_ were also defensive.

"Nothing, just — you're a slytherin pureblood, didn't think it'd be in your nature to not care about getting dirty."

Theo rolled his eyes and looked back to the row of beige, still deciding on which one would be least of a monstrosity to wear.

When he heard her speak again he wanted to pop his own eardrums.

"If you're worried about me judging, I can tell you now that I won't. I'm wearing one too." She didn't want to, but she smiled despite his attitude, and placed her focus back on the Mandrake seeds.

He knew she wouldn't judge, it didn't seem in her nature, and like she said she was wearing one herself — but whether he was alone or not he'd never be caught dead wearing a potato sack. So, Theo decided not to wear an overcoat, but he wore gloves. He stood opposite Elara and watched closely, copying what she was doing with her set.

They didn't speak — didn't even look at each other the whole time. He did notice though, that Elara Hunt had nice hands: small and dainty, with pale pink nails.

Still too much perfection.

_Couldn't she have obnoxiously large hands?_

—

Her day had been a typical one. Elara started off with Charms and Divination with the girls, then sat at lunch with the Gryffindors. After that, Care of Magical creatures with Amber, followed by a free period which she spent doing her Charms homework given to her that same day.

When her free period ended, Zach had found her in the halls to compare schedules which they didn't get to do that morning — turns out they had History of Magic together, which was next, and Astronomy. Last lesson of the day had been Muggle Studies.

Dinner time was roughly the same as the morning — though they're meant to stay at their own tables during that meal, Amber had snuck herself and Parvati over to fill them in on even more gossip.

Once that was over, the prefects had a small meeting with the Head Boy and Girl, who were handing out duties. Padma and Elara would be doing rounds on the lower part of the castle, while Ron and Hermione would be covering the upper half.

"What do you think about the Winter Ball they're holding this December?" Padma had asked as their rounds had begun.

Elara's brain stuttered for a moment as she knotted her brows together. "Winter Ball? Here?" Padma smiled and nodded, she checked behind a tapestry before joining the girl's side again.

"Yep, Winter Ball here at Hogwarts, quite like the Yule Ball. I overheard Dumbledore and McGonagall talking about it — they think it'll lift up spirits, since everyone knows you-know-who is _actually_ back."

Part of Elara was thrilled — she thoroughly enjoyed the Yule Ball and this was to be assumed just like it. She had taken ages getting ready with Hannah and Amber giggling their heads off and spinning around in their golden dresses in the middle of the Gryffindor dorm.

Her date had been Dean Thomas, who ended the night with her with a kiss that she very much did not like. Other than that though her night was filled with dancing, laughing, beautiful dresses and flattering tuxedos.

It would be nice to do something like that again — to let go. This time, it would be even more of a relief, as now she has one million responsibilities, classes and duties.

The other part of Elara, dreaded this idea.

With those responsibilities and duties, she would no doubt be helping with the arrangements. Sorting through decorations and music.

More stuff on her plate.

"Sounds like it'll be good. Do you know who you'll go with?"

Padma's cheeks were suddenly kissed pink like a spring rose, the blooming colour subtle against her golden skin. "Well. . .I don't know who I'm going with — but I'm _kinda_ hoping your friend Oliver will ask me."

"Oliver? As in curly ginger hair Oliver?" Elara asked, surprised. She would have thought Padma knew.

The Ravenclaw blushed and smiled, making her cheeks round into perfect apples and flash her bright white teeth. "Yes, I've dropped a few hints and I think he's catching on that I like him. . .but I can't be sure."

Elara reached out for Padma's wrist and stopped the two from walking. She had a compassionate look in her eyes and her brows arched softly for the added effect.

Padma was confused.

"Pads. . .Oliver is gay, he likes, uh, boys."

A light embarrassment brushed Padma's face and she raised her palm to her forehead. Next thing Elara knew, she was laughing.

"Oh wow I'm so blind — you'd think a Ravenclaw would see something like that." Elara laughed along too, just to make sure that embarrassment was gone. "Ah, oh well," Padma added with a shrug.

"What about you? Who would you like to go with?" Padma asked after they'd turned a few corners.

Who _would_ she like to go with?

It's true that Elara hadn't thought about anything as simple as relationships or dates since her fourth year — but she didn't want to go with Hannah, or even Amber, though she'd be guaranteed a good time. She wanted to be a girl. . .who went with a boy. She wanted to be nervous as she picked out her dress.

A dress. She couldn't have a nice one this year.

All her family's money died with her mother — Helen. She was the one who worked for the three, kept the food on the table. Her father tried, but he didn't do the greatest in school. So, he opted for opening a bakery.

She ignored the thought for now.

Elara wondered. . .she could go with Zach. Though even as a friend he was the clingy sort. He'd want to be attached at the hip with her all night. Ernie? Never. Justin? Dating April. Daniel? No, he'd no doubt be going with Susan — the two had been eye-fucking each other all of last year so it was inevitable.

She wouldn't go with any of the Ravenclaw boys. . .all were quite reserved and judgemental.

Ron would end up with Hermione — it's clear to everyone. Dean, with Ginny. Harry with. . .she wasn't sure. Seamus and Neville would end up together because no girls wanted to go with them. Seamus was a little too obnoxious for Elara's taste.

_Neville's and Harry are sweet. They could be potential dates._

And Slytherin boys are an absolute no.

Elara didn't want to think about this right now — the ball is a few months away. Dates didn't matter as of now.

"I'm not sure, I guess I'll think harder when we near the time."

—

After they're rounds had been completed, Elara walked Padma back to Ravenclaw tower and the two said their polite goodbyes. Then, Elara was left alone to walk back to the Hufflepuff basement.

the location of their commons was a perk of being a Hufflepuff. The kitchens are just down the hall, so, if one wakes up late and misses breakfast, all you need to do is run along the hall and collect something, then run up to class.

The castle corridors were bare of life — people that is, of course. The only sound the girl could hear as she made her way was the sound of her shoes clattering against the stone floor and echoing around the walls. That, and her pulse.

She had forgotten how scared of the dark she was.

There was a clatter from another corridor, but the emptiness made the sound swirl around the shell of her ear. Elara cringed and lit up her wand with a quick _lumos_. Looking around, nothing was there.

But when she turned she jumped. Peeves the poltergeist was there, clattering around the armour. She placed a hand on her chest and went to move along, but he was Peeves.

"AH! What's little miss prissy doing out so late eh? Why you lurking around?"

She rolled her eyes and carried along the cobbled corridor. "I'm a prefect Peeves. Finishing up my rounds." He followed her along, kicking the suited armour as he went, which only rebuilt itself — something Peeves was not happy about.

"Why'd I make you jump then aye? Scared of the school poltergeist? Wee Hufflepuff."

She snapped around and pointed her finger in his glowing face. "Listen. It's the second day of school this year and I feel barely sane. Leave me alone to finish my rounds and get to my common room or I'll break my own curfew by heading down to the dungeons and looking for the Bloody Baron. Got it?"

He paused before sticking his tongue out and leaving in the opposite direction. Elara rolled her eyes and continued — she really hated Peeves.

Annoyed, she walked a little faster down the halls, keeping her eyes downcast to ignore the open darkness.

She didn't expect to bump into someone.

Elara rounded the corner and something hard hit her chest. She wobbled on her feet a little to gain back her balance, but the person in front of her had grabbed her elbows to do just that for her.

They were large hands.

She looked up and was met by the blank face of Theodore Nott. A cigarette hung from his lips and his eyes were heavy of insomnia. He moved one hand from her elbow and brought it to his lips where he took the cigarette and released a cloud of smoke right in Elara's face.

"You're aware smoking on school grounds is prohibited?" She said still in his small hold. He looked around and shrugged, taking another drag from the burn.

"Who were you talking with?"

"Nobody-"

"Well I heard voices."

She stilled, and realised she had to move from his grip. She clasped a hand around his wrist and moved it to his side, taking a step back. Elara sighed. "It was just Peeves."

He raised his brows. "You were arguing with Peeves?"

She furrowed hers. "How did you know I was arguing with him?"

He gave a low chuckle and motioned to the space around them. "You're loud in these empty halls. Your voice echoed."

She wondered why Theo was talking to her as if he hadn't been a little rude in the greenhouse that morning. She wondered why he smoked muggle cigarettes, which she quickly observed were the ones that had the click of mint in them.

_Why did he want to know who I was talking to? Arguing with?_

Elara felt a little angry, though it didn't show that much. He had called her loud, and she was not loud, with or without the effect of the empty halls. "I am not — no. Stop trying to distract me." He didn't care who she was talking to, he was trying to get out of trouble.

"You were _smoking_ and out past curfew, Theo."

Theo raised his hands in a surrender and took two steps back. "Not going to hand me over to the Centaurs are you?"

If she wasn't a prefect, and if she wasn't stressed about the stack on this year's porcelain plate — she would have laughed.

"No. Ten points from Slytherin. Five from smoking, five from breaking curfew." Surprisingly, he didn't look annoyed, but she did.

Then he was taking steps forwards. All the way until she was backed up to the wall and his hands were braced either side of her head.

"You're going to need to walk back to your commons."

She was surprised at how calm she sounded, but in reality, her heart was at a rapid pace.

Theodore Nott, son of a high-ranking Death Eater, has the Hufflepuff Princess alone in a corridor late at night. _What was he going to do?_

"Tell me, Hunt. Do you ever get tired of being so. . ." his eyes raked down the length of her, slowly curving around her face. ". . .Prim?"

Elara scoffed. She's not _prim_. She did not disapprove of everything that's deemed 'improper.' Well, people just didn't know that though, so if one were to assume from afar. . .

"I need to get back to my commons Theodore, and so do you. Or, do you need me to walk you there?"

Theo smirked, it was charming. He leaned down to her ear, pushing her further against the wall, and he was filled with her scent — that too, had to be perfect didn't it?

Strawberries. . . Untouched books. . . A Spring day.

His, she noticed, was smoke — lots of it, with hints of petrichor and a musky cologne.

He gritted his teeth together and let out a long exhale — it made her breath hitch.

"Never. . .call me Theodore," he said.

And then he was walking away. And she was left alone in the dark corridors again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd say every chapter doesn't start with a nightmare — that would be a little boring. They're just relevant.


	3. Chapter 3

**_SEPTEMBER 4TH 1996_ **   
  


Theo didn't see Elara the day after she was doing her prefects rounds. Not that he wanted to. And to clear the air — he did not go looking for her. She was the last person he had wanted to see in the halls that night.

The reason he was there was because Draco and Blaise were being dicks. Theo wanted to sleep — something he had not been able to get much of over the summer. The two boys had other plans, and those plans were to steam up the dorm with the scent of marijuana and Firewhiskey.

When Theo asked if they could take it somewhere else, Blaise had taken him to the side and blabbed on about how Draco said he was having a hard time and he needed to brush off some of his stress. Theo wondered what this 'hard time' could be, as it was only the second day of school.

_Well actually. . .it probably had something to do with why he was an arse on the train._

Theo decided the next best thing was leaving the dungeons, and waiting it out for a few hours for them to finish up and for the smell to vanish.

He had been doing well about not getting caught in the upper half of the castle by Hermione Granger and her little pet Ron Weasley, that is until he descended to the lower half and Elara's voice caught his attention. . .causing him to linger and her run into him.

It was amusing listening to her argue with someone, and it was even better that it was the school's poltergeist, Peeves. He didn't imagine her 'perfection' would allow her to shout at someone and threaten them like she did, even if it wasn't a human.

The way she was talking about how she was 'barely feeling sane' — it proved his theory right of something more being under her blossom sleeve of perfection. Her edges were fraying.

But why did she barely feel sane? Had she always felt like this? Does she regret this obvious act? Did it have something to do with what she wrote Astoria about? It was possible, why else would he only notice her now?

Why did her perfection only bother him now?

Well that was simple.

When he bumped into her...the look in her eyes when she realised she was in _his_ hold, Theo's. When she realised who helped her to not fall to the ground — it was dangerous, like a serpent, ready to strike if needed. It was obvious she knew of his father, and who he works for.

If she really was that perfect...that innocent, kind, hard-working, generous Hufflepuff, she would have been scared. There _was_ something else under there, that dangerous glare told him so.

Following that glare, he had thought she might just throw an insult this way, or tear him down for 'ruining his lungs' like Pansy says to him every chance she gets. . .but no. The first thing to come out of her pretty little mouth was how it was against the rules.

He was disappointed. Theo wanted Elara to continue proving him right.

_No_ , she wouldn't let herself slip that easily, to someone like him.

It was predicable still, so _fucking_ predictable. He knew through his disappointment how she'd behave, even if he barely knew her.

Theo wants Elara Hunt to be _unpredictable_ , so he'd be right, and so he'd have the pleasure of coming undone, and people seeing who she actually is. Theo couldn't wait to see who she actually is. He was ever-so curious.

So he did what he wanted. . . he wanted to see what was under there. . . sooner rather than later.

He started off light by calling her loud — girls hate that, they want to be seen as dainty and sweet. Theo was purposely being nosey, everyone hates that. She didn't show any anger, annoyance or one hint of something different for her. She only accused him of distracting her.

If only she knew _she_ was the one distracting him.

Then, Theo tried a little banter with a tinge of flirtation — asking innocently with his alluring gaze and cheeky smirk if she'd 'hand him over to the centaurs.' She didn't budge. She took away ten points from Slytherin. He pushed the flirting a little harder, doing the signature move of backing her into a wall with hands either side.

It always worked on the blondes he craved. They melt into him, do whatever he wants.

And when her reaction was calm, he dove straight in. Being rude didn't work, and neither did flirtation. Theo meant what he said about wanting to know sooner rather than later. So, he asked her if she got tired of being so prim.

Elara Hunt's buttons were hard to press, the blueprint she had created for herself was hard to crease. She told him to go back to bed, like an annoying babysitter.

Then she called him 'Theodore,' and Theo hates being called by his full first name — loathed it. She had pushed a button. He pushed her further into that wall and made her breath hitch slightly by leaning down to her ear. That's where he caught her scent, that sweet, _perfect_ scent.

He liked it.

Theo promised himself he wouldn't like anything else about her.

On the way back to the Slytherin Dungeons, there were two things on his mind.

One: why was she trying so hard to keep one image of herself in everyone's minds?

Two, which is a few, but they come collectively: why did he care so much? Why was she acting like a magnet, and he was a piece of metal, always being drawn to her? All the questions he asked himself when he heard her say that she was barely feeling sane.

—

Theo walked into the great hall just after seven for breakfast. He didn't know who'd be here this early — Slytherin's are obsessed with their 'beauty sleep' — but he didn't care, he was starving.

He skimmed his eyes over the Slytherin table, everywhere he looked there were stacks of food piled on golden plates surrounded by a few first and second years, but none of his friends were there. He rolled his eyes to himself. _Expected_.

Theo slid into a seat he gathered some food onto his plate — eggs, ham, a small pile of fried potatoes, and then he grabbed himself a glass of fresh pumpkin juice.

Recently, he had felt nothing but stress. Strawberries, untouched books and the scent of a typical Spring day never left him until he had showered to get rid of it. That had been at four in the morning — he was annoyed with himself that his brain took so long to understand a shower would rid him of her.

Even though it would have been easy to pin _all_ of his stress on her, he didn't.

Yes, she was distracting him, but there were bigger things on his silver plate.

He thought over everything that happened over the summer with his father. Theodore Nott Sr had changed into a different man once his secret had been revealed. A secret that was responsible for a majority of Theo's stress, and the reason he had little to no sleep every night. 

Theo already hated his father, for pressing all of his beliefs and opinions onto him, shaping him to be who _he_ wanted. But personally, Theo didn't hate Muggle-borns or half-bloods, but, he does believe Purebloods are superior.

He'd admit he's a little biased.

After the reveal of this secret, he could say confidently that he wanted nothing more to do with the Nott name. He didn't hate his father anymore, he loathed him, more than being called 'Theodore.'

The night he bumped into Elara, Blaise and Draco became part of that stress too. Last night they had done the same, only Theo stayed, drew his curtains, and forced himself into a short sleep.

He woke up with a headache.

Theo tucked into his breakfast, planning to eat as quickly as he could without looking like a pig so he could leave and be alone. He had never been a fan of it, growing up with Draco always around and attending galas and charity events, but he was craving it.

Those were his plans, until he lifted his head to casually glance around the room. Something else took his attention.

Elara was sitting at the Gryffindor table, which was right next to Slytherin, and where she chose to sit was in his perfect line of sight. She was seated in the middle of all of them — centre of attention.

She was wearing her robes of course — as it was Thursday — and her chestnut hair was pulled back on the top of her head in a knot, her baby hairs had been let free, whipping around her forehead and temples, framing her symmetrical and soft features. Her hair being back exposed her neck and ears, that held matching, dainty, silver jewellery which the Granger girl next to her looked like she was complimenting.

Her face was the same as ever, sweet, delicate, with lips that were always curved like a crescent moon and dimples that stayed permanently in her cheeks.

Elara was talking to Granger and Johnson's little sister. The three were giggling about something, and both their laughs looked genuine, but Elara's didn't.

She looked as if something was bothering her. Elara contorted her lips into an awkward, toothy smile, but her cheeks were not so compromising. He could feel her reluctance to be moulded falsely. When the girls beside her had stopped giggling and most likely changed the topic of conversation, she finally averted her gaze, her fake smile was lifeless, and she was prodding at the food in her bowl.

Theo's stare hadn't meant to linger, especially long enough for their eyes to connect. As soon as they did, when her brown stared back at his soft blue ones, he looked down and continued eating, waiting two minutes before looking back up to see if she went back to how she was before.

She did, she looked the same.

A few seconds later, when she resumed laughing with the Gryffindors, a boy with sandy blonde hair and broad shoulders crept up behind her and lent her back into his embrace. His arms went around her shoulders and hers went to his forearms, as if hugging him back in a way.

Then he kissed her temple and whispered some words into her ear, which made her scoff but end in a blushing smile. Theo sensed that it came from embarrassment more than flattery.

It took Theo a few moments to register that the boy was Cormac McLaggen. The school's fuck-boy, 'ladies man.'

Someone as 'perfect' as Elara would never be involved with him. Every girl in the school was well aware of his reputation, and made sure to keep a safe distance from him. Elara? Theo's seen how she is. She'd know more than anyone to stay away.

It would ruin her reputation he knew she had and closely monitored.

Or. . . maybe Theo is continuing to be proven right.

He had assumed a girl like her was a virgin, but, _what with her popularity,_ maybe she's one of those girls.

The girls that get the label of 'Lady in the streets. . . freak in the sheets.' The ones who are the definition of 'perfect,' a stereotypical golden-girl, but as soon as someone finds their way into their bed, they're a different person.

Confident, bold, sexy.

He stopped thinking about Elara like that in a matter of milliseconds.

Even if it _would_ prove he was right, he was no doubt wrong. This was _McLaggen_. . . he's a disgusting piece of shit.

Cormac said a few more things to her from behind, and Elara kept her eyes on her food but acknowledged him with nods and shakes of the head. He looked annoyed by this, and his hand pulled her chin to his face, so they were looking at each other.

He looked like he was begging for something. Theo could tell, as he had used the technique of the cheeky smirk; tilted head; flirty eyes and devilish words with some of the girls he had wanted to sneak off behind the Quidditch stands with.

Elara looked more uncomfortable. Potter noticed this, and moved from his seat to next to the girl, they exchanged a few words, Elara smiled awkwardly at Cormac, and then the two left the hall.

—

After her extremely awkward and uncomfortable encounter with Cormac McLaggen that morning, Harry had walked her to the library, where he sat with her until classes started.

The two studied a little, not that they needed to so early in the year, and talked about the past summer, how everything was for him dealing with Sirius' death. . . how she's doing with her mother's death. Everything they hadn't had the chance to talk about on the train.

Harry had always been a good friend of Elara's, as he was quite close with Amber and Amber is close with Elara. Obviously, nobody was as close to the boy as Ron and Hermione, and vice versa, but he was always reliable, kind, trustworthy, and a good person to be around overall.

Just before nine, they made their way out of the grand library and made their way to their own classes — Harry had Muggle Studies and Elara had Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The halls at that hour were golden and heavenly, with small bursts of emerald when you'd pass the middle courtyard, or Neville who'd be carrying a new plant from Herbology. People filled those halls, all excited for the year ahead.

This year though, they looked a little more troubled, no doubt from the effects of the news the end of June brought.

The Defence classroom had changed dramatically along with its professor. Even with all the previous ones, the defence room was always bright and active, filled with colourful books about Vampires, Hags and Werewolves; vibrant pixies flying around the room; a large oak cupboard holding a Boggart or large venomous tarantulas kept in large glass jars with golden lids. 

The professors were always changing, it was mildly entertaining, and gave something to talk about. Quirrell, who before finding out was a dark wizard, was entertaining because of his 'fear' of his own profession and his stutter. Lockhart, who was completely useless, vain and fake, was what made him quite funny at times.

Lupin — the best Defence teacher they had, was not entertaining because he was fake, vain or scared, he was an entertaining professor from the things he taught, the way he talked with students and let them have fun while being safe.

Then, you have 'Mad-eye,' who wasn't really Mad-eye, but the Death Eater who posed as him did a shockingly good job. Fourth year defence lessons were the maddest.

Umbridge was a bitch. But the room still looked as it should have.

This year though, was dark, gloomy, and cold. You'd think after the years of wanting the job you'd have more people talking about his classes, but nobody was talking about them.

Thick, crimson drapes were pulled over the tall windows, and the mahogany desks had darkened a shade. There were no props or displays around the room, only desks. The main source of light was gone, replaced by three heavy, orange lamps that dangled overhead.

A few students were already in when she entered, most of them being Slytherins, more specifically: Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, and the two plump 'bodyguards' Elara forgot the names of.

She took her seat a few rows back from the front, where she had sat last year, and within a few minutes, the room was full. Students had greeted each other with a hug or a playful punch for the day, while others took their seats and unpacked their quills and textbooks immediately.

"No need for wands or silly spells today," drawled a deep, throaty voice from the back of the classroom. Snape had entered, striding between the rows of desks, his black robe flying behind him as he did so.

When he whipped around and crossed his arms in that same cloak, he glared at almost every student in the room. "Instead, I would like you all to to. . ."

Elara looked around the room once more as she noticed the seat next to her was empty, and all the rest were filled by either a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff.

She shrugged on the inside and turned to open her book. She figured a positive was that she could work peacefully by herself, not get distracted and not have anyone looking over her shoulder to copy her when they could just ask for help.

All of that went down the drain when she heard the door open.

Everyone turned around to see Theo Nott, lazily strolling into the room. Hair dishevelled, eyes heavy and posture weak. He paused when he realised the only seat in the room was next to her. Elara didn't know it, but he was smirking on the inside.

"Take. . . your seat Mr Nott. Instead of standing there like a large, obnoxious tree."

Theo gave a curt nod and flung his bag off his shoulder onto the floor, quite happily taking his seat. Snape began talking again and Theo looked to his left where Elara was sitting, with her hand holding her head and the other tapping her quill gently on the table.

He noticed then, thanks to her hair being pulled back, that she had two lobe piercings instead of one, and the earrings that matched the necklace were in the small shape of a silver rose.

She was also absentmindedly biting on the inside of her cheek, near her bottom lip, and scrunching up her nose a little at Snape's words.

She seemed happier than she was this morning at breakfast, despite her painfully obvious hatred for the Head of Slytherin house. He wondered what had happened after Potter took her away. He wondered what McLaggen had said to make Potter do that.

Whatever it was, he assumed she had felt thankful. Theo wouldn't know what the fuck to do if he were ever being unwillingly wrapped in any girls arms that had a reputation like that.

"You have until the end of the lesson to complete this and then we will be diving more in depth into the subject. Begin."

Theo snapped back into the present. He looked to Snape who had taken a seat lazily at his desk. The students who wound him up were silently talking amongst themselves as they scribbled down onto their blank pieces or parchment.

He then looked at Elara, who was doing the same, and he felt like an idiot for thinking about her for too long that he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing.

He lent his arm on the back of her chain and leaned to her side. His chin was hovering a few inches over her shoulder and he was burning blazing holes in her temple.

When she felt him close, she stilled and stopped writing mid-sentence. Slowly, Elara turned her head to the right and his face was just a few inches from hers.

"May I help you Theo?" She asked in the sweetest manor she could muster, burying the shaky feeling of him so close deep in the back of her mind.

Just his breath fanning against her loser baby hairs was wracking her with nerves.

He smirked, and the hand that wasn't on the back of her chair came to his face, where he rubbed his chin and cheek.

"You wouldn't happen to mind telling me what we're supposed to be writing about, would you?"

Elara frowned slightly, causing a wrinkle to hover above her brow for a moment until she softened. "You should have been paying attention, and arrived earlier."

Theo leaned back slightly and deepened his expression, his eyes hung heavier, his smirk became more casual. He tilted his head to the side and flickered his soft blue eyes between her hazel eyes.

"Be sweet and just tell me. Then, you can go back to. . . to being you."

Elara paused, taken back a little by him in general. From the other day while he was acting like a Prince not wanting to touch the overcoats, to when he backed her into a wall, completely ignored everything she was saying and doing whatever he wanted, to now: calling her 'sweet,' being so close.

"At least eight inches of your own knowledge of non-verbal spells. Anything you know," she said, breaking the tense silence.

"Wasn't so hard," he smiled, putting back some distance between them. He reached into his bag and took out the things he needed.

A quarter of an hour passed between the two, along with everyone else in the class, scribbling down their knowledge on non-verbal spells and overall ignoring the other.

Except Theo wasn't ignoring Elara.

He was thinking about a new way to push her buttons. Experiment. Show the side of her that's feeling far from sane. He was bored, and curious, and she was right there.

The chances were slim. They were nearer the front of a classroom with a moody professor and twenty students.

He leaned over again and as if time were repeating itself, she stilled, and slowly turned her head.

"Yes?"

He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and shifted his seat closer. He watched as she stared down at the chair and saw with a blank expression what he was doing. When Theo settled before her he smiled.

"I have a question."

She deepened her look, seeming unimpressed or bored, but always with that sweet undertone. "And what is this question?"

"Why did you look so painfully _fucking_ bored, to the point where you could be depressed, at breakfast this morning?" He raised his brows by a small fraction, keeping the smile. She looked dumbfounded. Her eyes widened and she was desperate for space between them.

"Why were you watching me long enough to notice that?"

Simple, curiosity. But he didn't want her to know that she was on his mind.

He masked a frown along with an intimidating stare which was easy to pull off. "Don't try and flatter yourself," he shrugged and looked left, then back at her. "I was merely glancing across the room and your face was full of it. You look ready to throw yourself off a cliff without a second thought."

Elara looked downward briefly. She was bored, and it was fucking painful to the point where she felt depressed. The amount of times she had bit her tongue from rambling on about the upcoming Quidditch try-outs, or the products in Fred and George's new shop was laughable. She regretted having lied about her real interest since first year to seem as perfect as possible.

When she met his eyes she felt fake-confidence, and said: "I wasn't flattering myself. You and I just simply know nothing of each other, and I was curious as to why you'd see that from one small glance, so, I assumed you stared." She hid her real version of that answer.

_Flattering myself? Why in the world would I need someone like you to flatter myself? Boys practically throw themselves at me to the point where flattery or flirtation makes me feel ill._

_You're the son of a Death Eater who ranks very high up on the scale and a Slytherin who's best friends with the boy who constantly goes out of his way to be rude to some of my friends!_

_Also, how I feel should not be any of your business, and you should never question me about it. You clearly see me at meal times, in the halls, you see who surrounds me — I have lots of people I can talk to._

_Why should you care if I want to throw myself off a cliff? I don't know you, you don't know me. So, stop being so bloody nosey._

Elara went back to the process of dipping her quill in ink and writing onto her parchment which was already half-way done.

Theo though, wasn't finished. He nudged her in the side with his elbow to get her attention again. She looked a little more peeved.

"You never answered the question Hunt."

"And I don't have to."

_Oh?_

He placed his hand back on her chair while his other snatched her quill from her fingertips. She went to say something but something shifted in her demeanour when she met his eyes.

He was intimidating.

Theo watched her gulp and surrender to him, like she knew she'd lose if she carried on. He was glad she knew her place.

"I want you to answer it."

For a moment, a very rapid moment — she wanted to spill. He's the first person to notice how different she is from the act she puts on. He barely knows her and he noticed.

Amber, who had been her best friend since first year, just thinks she works herself up a little too much, has too many responsibilities. Same with Hannah.

Then Harry, Ron and Hermione, they always know when something is up, it's why they feel like it's their duty to go down a trap door or into the chamber of secrets to save the day.

None of them have noticed.

And with three small encounters, he knew it.

Why else would Theo Nott be asking this?

Theo Nott. . . He's Draco's best friend, who is the self appointed Potter-bully; former inquisitorial squad member; follower of Voldemort like his father no doubt; Slytherin play-boy.

He'd judge the fuck out of her. Just like she fears her friends would.

Being Theo Nott would only make it harsher.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than backing me into a wall or keeping me in my seat and taking my quill from me if you want me to answer your questions about my personal life."

Elara snatched another quill from her bag and moved her seat far as it could from Theo's. Keeping her head down to her work and blocking him out completely, no matter how many times he nudged her and shifted closer throughout the rest of that class.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a stutter I love you and it is not embarrassing or something you should be self-conscious about.


	4. Chapter 4

**_SEPTEMBER 5TH 1996_ **   
  


They were only a few short minutes into their first potions lesson of the year with Slughorn — who is the complete opposite of Snape: joyful, optimistic and loud — when the door to the classroom opened with a rather obnoxious bang. Slughorn stopped mid-sentence and turned to see Potter and Weasley standing in the doorway.

Theo looked casually over to Elara, as they were her friends, and he saw a small smile on her face from where she was standing next to Granger.

During the first short minutes of the lesson, Elara had smiled at him twice: once when he saw her enter the room, and the second when they were collecting their books from the cupboard. He knew she was pretending yesterday's conversation never happened, and she clearly wanted him to know that, which was why she went back to being her sweet, polite self.

Theo was a little agitated. He liked the small fire he emitted from her yesterday, liked the way she snapped at him for being nosey.

For a moment, he thought she was going to be who she wanted people to see and answer his question without causing any problems. Give him what she thought he wanted. But no, she didn't. And she didn't know that doing so made things _so_ _much_ _more_ entertaining for Theo.

She never said why she wouldn't answer, which he would admit, was a little annoying as he was genuinely curious. That answer was probably the reason why she was so fake, so not herself. The reason she tries so hard. The reason she's hiding what's under all the perfection.

But she did give an answer, an answer that made him want to see her at her worst, made him want to push and push and push until she crumbled in his hand like dirt.

"Ah! Harry m'boy. I was beginning to worry! And you've brought someone with us I see. . ."

Slughorn's booming, over-the-top voice took Theo back to the now. He looked away from Elara, glancing sideways at Draco and Blaise to see if they noticed — which they didn't, and turned his attention to the professor.

Weasley stepped forwards so he was beside Harry, and buffed his chest out slightly, appearing more proper — which he wasn't, the beast lives in some sort of Rabbit hole.

The ginger ball smiled. "Ron Weasley, sir. But I'm dead-awful at potions, a menace actually, so. . . I'm probably just gonna —"

Theo rolled his eyes, _at least he wasn't a liar._ He truly was a menace as Theo remembered, from all the times he and the Irish kid blew things up together in the back of the classrooms, which was never an accident.

"Nonsense we'll sort you out. Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine. Get your books out," said Slughorn turning back to the class briefly, only for Harry's voice to make him look back.

"Sorry, sir. . . I haven't actually got my book yet, and nor has Ron."

_Potter: Too self absorbed to care about school books. Weasley: Too poor to buy the school books._

Slughorn waved his hand in the air then pointed to the corner of the room. "Not to worry, get one from the cupboard," he said. "Now —" he turned his attention back to the class, "— as I was saying, I prepared some concoctions this morning. Any ideas what these might be?"

Granger's hand shot up into the air, while Elara's went up at a normal place, like the average person would do.

"Ah! Let's see, you! Miss. . .?"

He pointed to Hermione who stood forward, and Elara's hand went down. "Miss Granger, sir," she spoke. She stalked forwards to the potions and hovered her face from one end to the other, inspecting them.

"This one there is, _veritaserum_. It's a truth telling serum. And that one there is polyjuice potion — terribly tricky to make. And this is _amortentia,_ the most powerful love potion in the world."

All of the girls in the room — including Pansy, perked up and took small, slow steps closer so that they could see the contents of the cauldron better. All girls perked up, except Elara.

Theo's interest in her only grew stronger, and made him want to figure her out more, and quicker. But then he supposed on the inside, she may be sick of the attention she gets from boys.

"It is rumoured to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. For example, I smell. . . freshly mown grass, new parchment and. . .spearmint. . . toothpaste."

At the realisation she was trailing off , Granger scurried back to where she was standing, next to the girl who looked as if someone were chewing her ear off about the functions of gillyweed. She looked painfully bored again, not so much to the point where one might think she was depressed as she had slapped on a rather convincing fake-smile.

"Now amortentia doesn't create _actual_ love, that would be impossible."

A group of girls (Pansy, Vane, Bell and Brown) were inching closer to the potion which was glowing pink looking dazed and memorised, under a trance.

Like them, Theo was curious as to what he'd smell, but he'd never show this.

Instead, he drew a long breath, puffing out his chest as he dragged the aroma closer to him.

It hit him in an instant.

There were three that stood out to him under the obvious peppermint and roses which he was greatly fond of. The peppermint being from his favourite sweets and the roses being from his mothers garden outside his manor.

_Strawberries. Untouched books. A spring day._

His eyes doubled in size slightly and he drew another breath, inhaling sharper this time.

_Strawberries. Untouched books. A spring day._

_No, no, no no._ He wasn't attracted to Elara. No _fucking_ way. He was just curious of her, like he's stated many times. He wants to know why she's being so fake, hiding what was really underneath.

_'. . . According to what attracts them.'_

Good. No, he's not attracted to Elara, he's just fond of what she smelled like. If any other girl were to walk past him smelling of strawberries, he'd like that. Yes, that was it, only the smell that appealed to him, never her.

He shut all thoughts down regarding scents and amortentia.

It didn't matter if it was the smell he liked and not her, he didn't want to be thinking about it, he'd just pretend he wasn't close enough to smell.

"Amortentia _does_ cause powerful infatuation or obsession. Which is the reason it is probably the most _dangerous_ potion in this room."

Slughorn closed the lid of the potion — thank Salazar — and walked off ready to talk about another when Katie Bell spoke up.

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in that one."

He beamed down at everyone from his lanky height, turning to a potion in a peculiar shaped vial, a clear liquid filling it. He unscrewed it from his place and held it up to everyone.

"What you see before you ladies and gentlemen, is a curious little potion, known as Felix Felicis. But it is more commonly referred to as —"

"Liquid luck."

Theo moved his head to her, surprised she had perked up so loudly and confidently.

He liked it.

_No you didn't._

Slughorn's smile only grew larger, if possible. "Yes, liquid luck. Miss?"

She smiled back. "Hunt, sir."

He nodded and filed it into his brain, turning to everyone else and holding the potion a bit closer.

"Desperately tricky to make, disastrous should you get it wrong. One sip and you'll find that all of your endeavours succeed."

Theo smirked. He wouldn't mind taking a few sips of that before he beat the living shit out of his father, watched as he withered in pain on the floor, how he'd been making Theo feel all his life. Guaranteed to succeed against the fat man.

His mother always warned him about the butterbeers and the pies.

He was surprised he could hop on a broom and follow alongside his Lord as they searched for Potter like it was a wizarding Easter egg hunt. 

At the thought that he may be smirking a little _too_ much, Theo pulled his lips into a line and rested his muscles, turning to Draco and being surprised to find that he had perked up a little for the first time since fifth year.

"— At least until the effects wear off. So, this is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of liquid luck for the student who in the hour that remains managed to brew an acceptable draught of living death. Recipes for which can be found on page ten of your books."  
  
  


**_SEPTEMBER 10TH 1996_ **   
  


Wednesday ended in Hermione and Elara sat on one of the plush, burnt orange sofas that sat in front of the crackling fire in the Gryffindor common room.

They had finished up studying together for divination, since it was both their weakest subject, and now Elara was sinking comfortably, with her legs bent and her arm stretched on the back of the sofa, talking casually with her bushy-haired friend.

Lady, her fluffy black cat, was sitting on Hermione's lap, completely ignoring her owner.

Amber was supposed to be with them too, but at the sight of Joshua Rivers — one of Cormac's friends — exiting the common room, she was gone in a flash, letting Elara only catch the sight of her ebony curls bouncing behind her.

"So are you doing okay? I mean, I see you at meal times with us, in classes and here, and you seem fine but I can't help but feel that you're not — that you're not fine."

Elara shifted uncomfortably, raising from where she was sinking into the burnt orange. Her lips pressed into a line and she rolled her shoulders like some invisible force was holding her down, not letting her move.

She sighed to herself, knowing she couldn't lie this time, to Hermione.

"I think I'm stuck in the denial stage," she admitted quickly, rushing out the words like she was going to be told off.

"I keep —" she swallowed hard. "— I keep thinking she'll just appear, and it will be one of her ridiculous jokes that nobody finds amusing but her." She let herself smile at her memory before she continued.

_So quickly, the corners of her eyes were filling up, feeling heavy, desperate to leave._

"I lost my mother, my world and my hero. It snuck up on me quietly and the next thing I knew she was gone."

_Please, no tears. Saying it is enough._

"I guess I learned that this is just the price we have to pay for loving someone," her voice broke, and she was shaking her head. A tear escaped.

A hand was then on her knee, Hermione's hand, and she was stroking circles slightly with her thumb.

"If you think her death was your fault, I can assure you that it wasn't. This is all _you-know-who's_ doing, setting us up like that." The hand on her knee reached out and was now in her hand. "Loving someone is a gift, you don't have to 'pay prices' for it, Elara."

She averted her gaze to the table — she hated people seeing her cry when she was such a kind and happy person — where she saw two sets of initials.

_F.W & G.W_

She would have smiled if it were possible. The twins always had a way of making her feel as close to herself as she was able to get. Always made her feel like it was okay to let loose a little.

Elara sighed. "I think it's just easier, blaming myself. I still have no idea who actually killed her, that Death Eater wasn't on the list of names, in any wanted posters or even shown as being there in the records."

Hermione didn't know what to say, didn't know what would help. So she changed the conversation.

"Have you heard from your brother?"

Elara wanted to roll her eyes. "Which one?" Hermione lifted a shoulder and said, "both."

Tears stopped, and instead she felt an itching feeling— annoyance, irritation, disappointment.

"Well. . . Kai is in France of course, with Amelia, she's pregnant." Hermione smiled. "He writes a little, saying if I need space from everything over here, he'd be happy for me to stay with them and transfer to Beauxbatons."

Elara looked into Hermione's brown eyes, deeper than her own and was hesitating for a moment, until it sunk in further that this was _Hermione._ She continued, knowing it best to just get it out.

"He doesn't write about mother, but I assume he's talked to dad about her. . . probably doesn't want to upset me since she was the closest with me."

Hermione was nodding along, listening with all her attention. "And the other brother, um. . . I think his name may have slipped my mind."

"Lorenzo," she smiled, then frowned. "Lorenzo, got a job at Gringotts with Bill, rented a flat in Muggle London and has completely forgotten I, or father exist."

Lorenzo Hunt. Just hearing his name was enough to make her frown until a horizontal line was permanently engraved on her forehead.

He attended Hogwarts much like his older brother and little sister, and of course, like them was sorted into Hufflepuff. He's a year older than the Weasley twins, and was best friends with Cedric Diggory before his death, which hit him hard.

After his death, he graduated, interned with some people doing Merlin-knows-what for a year, rented a flat with his other friend Mike and started setting up his life.

For the first six months, he visited when he could, always overjoyed with a smile and a joke — forever finding a way to brighten the mood. He cooks meals with their father and curls up on the sofa with their mother playing video games.

After those six months, his interactions became letters, telling the family he was too busy to visit, too busy to sit down for one meal on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

And then their mother died, and he attended her funeral, not smiling, of course, with no joke or anything to brighten the mood.

He was the first one to leave.

And then nothing.

Elara didn't doubt that their mother's death was her fault. If she and some of the members of the DA hadn't been so thoughtless to break into the ministry, then she might still be alive.

At least Kai, who has a pregnant wife, a house, a stable and successful job, all at age twenty-three can write once a week to check in and make sure the two are okay.

"All I know about him these days is what Bill sent to me in a letter; saying he was slacking a little bit and struggling with his money. Which is funny, considering he works at a bank."

Hermione giggled a little. She had a brief crush on Lorenzo in her first and second year, which was replaced by Ron in the third when she accidentally held his hand in a Care of Magical creatures class. Elara knew she was lying about not remembering his name for that reason.

"A little funny."

And then the mood had brightened a little.

"So are you coming to watch the Quidditch try-outs with me tomorrow?" Hermione asked with an all too happy expression.

Elara loved Quidditch, of course she would be there. 

"Do I have a choice? Amber, Ron, Harry and Ginny will be there. I have to support four of my closest friends." Hermione beamed, but within seconds it melted, and she was sneering at something, or better yet, _someone_ over Elara's shoulder.

Arms were around her from behind again and she felt uncomfortable.

"Now Elara, I didn't hear my name on that list."

_Cormac_.

She smiled sweetly and turned her head to the left slightly so she could catch his eyes. "That's because you're going out for the same position as Ron, and I'm afraid I like him a little more than you."

_A lot more._

His arms tightened and he pressed a kiss to her temple again. "Oh don't be silly, you can cheer for us both, or. . . you can take me up on my _broom cupboard_ offer, and then maybe you'll change your mind."

Gently, she reached up and clasped her hands around his wrists, bringing them off of her and standing with the sofa and Hermione between them.

"I'm quite alright, Cormac. But, if I ever want to, I'll let you know of course. Hermione?"

She motioned her head to the portrait door and her friend sprung up, locking their arms together and they left.

Cormac's eyes stuck to her backside.  
  
  


**_SEPTEMBER 11TH 1996_ **   
  


_A ring. A golden ring, with a diamond-shaped black stone placed on it, a small white pattern decorating the front, though she couldn't make it out._

_It was glowing, ever so slightly, and was radiating something sinful, dark, unholy._

_A hand picked it up between the thumb and forefinger. The hand was aged, wrinkled, and was decorated in a few other rings — they were silver._

_All Elara could see was this hand and the ring, which was slowly being placed onto the person's opposite middle finger. She was able to see a soft blue fabric covering the arm._

_The hands moved out of the frame, and she was then staring down at what looked like a black book, but it was frozen, hard, and had a large rip, stab, or maybe a tear through the front cover._

_She felt surrounded with that sinful, dark feeling._

_Suffocating on it._

_Elara reached for her throat, but she felt nothing there, like it was simply her eyes observing, and her body was somewhere else._

_The same hands reached out for the book, but this time, they looked as if they had been dipped in ash. The colour_ _was sinking into the skin, crawling, scraping to the knuckles, the back of the hands, then the wrists._

She woke up in a hot sweat. Confused, like the last dreams.

It only registered when she was in the great hall for breakfast, and she looked to the head table, that the hands belonged to Headmaster Dumbledore, and he was dying, like the last dream.

But his hands were not ashen, and she couldn't see any gold ring amongst the silver.

—

Both Amber, Ginny, and Ron made the Quidditch team as chasers and keeper. Harry was captain, so with those four (as well as Katie, Ritchie and Jimmy) they were guaranteed the Quidditch cup that year.

Elara would be sad for Hufflepuff if she had friends on the team, but the only players she ever liked and were friends with was Cedric and her brothers.

She was proud of her friends, and secretly extremely jealous that she couldn't, or better yet wouldn't, try out for a spot.

She imagined herself telling her friends how she actually loved Quidditch — they'd look at her as if she had grown antennas and her skin had turned green. They wouldn't take her seriously, think it was another one of her horrid jokes.

She was filled to the brim with fear, overflowing, spilling through the seal.

_What if she could never tell them?_

She thought of Harry's godfather's cousin, Tonks. She was in Hufflepuff, a metamorphmagus, and became an auror, loud and funny, fearless. But everyone thought she was weird nonetheless, even Harry.

The group had run ahead for the Gryffindor common room for a little celebration that involved butterbeer. They invited Elara along of course, but she politely declined and said she'd celebrate with them at dinner that night or breakfast the next day.

She simply wasn't in the mood.

Slowly, the Quidditch pitch became empty, the only sign it was once filled was the odd broom lying on the floor, forgotten, or a scarf left behind. Elara stood from her seat and followed behind two small, giggling Ravenclaw first years who both had large, pink cheeks.

And she walked. She walked and her hair fluttered in the air behind her, dancing. Her clothes clung to her body, the wind pressing it deeper into her skin, and her arms tightly wrapped around herself.

She was being slow, and the Ravenclaws faded from sight.

Elara felt cold wind stroking her skin — which was expected from being in the hills of Scotland, even in September — wanting to rip her clothes off her, as if she were its enemy. As a few teardrops appeared in the corners of her eyes, from the same cold wind, she turned and faced the tatty, wooden broom cupboard.

She didn't know why she had gone there.

The action was mindless.

She had planned to be alone, how? Maybe walk down to the lake, take a swim; sit in the kitchens with Dobby for a while; go and study even though she didn't need to.

The door was broken, barely on its hinges, and the wind wasn't helping, thrashing the slant of wood from side to side.

Inside, through a large gap, she could she stacks upon a stack of old brooms, lots of different makes, all in lots of different conditions.

Elara stepped forward once before hesitation sat heavy on her shoulders. She shook it off, and went again, but stopped when —

"And you're here because?"

She snatched her hand back to her chest and looked timidly to the side, where of course Theo was standing. His hands were in his coat pockets, hair was a mess from the wind and he was leaning against the tatty broom shed.

His eyes dragged from her head to her shoes.

Her arms folded over her chest. She blinked slowly, he was still there.

"I was just walking back to the castle now."

His left eyebrow raises, and the action is too smooth. He's attractive even with wild hair. "Why? Hufflepuff's try-outs were yesterday."

Elara shrugged and cursed to herself for not telling him plainly to 'fuck off.' "Gryffindor try-outs were just now, half of my friends were trying out so I came to support them."

Theo looked around them, back to her, behind her and sighed. "Then why aren't they with you? Not very nice leaving their little cheerleader behind." He stuck his bottom lip out sarcastically, feeling, _sorry_ for her.

"I told them to go ahead and that I'd catch up."

_Oversharing. He doesn't need to know this._

Then he's moved from the wall, and walking towards her, slowly, intimidatingly, his eyes never leaving hers and she doesn't have the strength to look away.

Soft blue. Dusty almost.

Then he stopped when there was a good amount of space between them.

"Catch up?" He repeats, sucking on the inside of his cheek then letting go. "I saw Potter and the Weasley's in the Great Hall ten minutes ago feasting on the chicken, probably took them a while to walk up and sit." He looked her up and down, and that sodding brow rose again. "Must be a painfully slow walker, Hunt."

_So what if I am?_

She wanted to leave. She'd admit she was a slow walker and leave. That's what she's going to do. She'll leave, forget the conversation and say she needed fresh air for a bit, say she was feeling sick and head to bed. She didn't have rounds that night.

"Why are you standing here staring at the broom shed? Never learned how to fly? Curious?" Theo looks between her and the tatty wooden room, the door open. He was there when she reached out for one.

_Leave_.

He was too. . . compelling.

"No." She says with a plain face. Elara looked to the shed sadly, then quickly back at his eyes so he doesn't think she _is_ sad. "I never did learn how to fly. Somehow, I managed to talk myself out of the lessons." She looked to the floor and laughed slightly. "Wrote an entire essay actually on why I shouldn't have to."

Elara never told anyone that. She had said her knee was injured the past summer, and she couldn't participate in anything that could cause more harm to it.

"Why would you do that?"

Elara looked back up, eyes a little wider, pink lips parted. His tone was soft, not mocking or judgemental. He didn't start with an insult. Maybe he was thinking of one. . .

She shrugged and felt regret. Nothing but regret when she watched her friends in the air, watched the Quidditch world cup, watched the brooms stare back at her in that bloody shed that looks like it's about to topple over.

"Fear. I didn't like the idea of being off the ground, stupid really."

His shoe snaps a twig beneath him as he steps closer.

Smoke, he smells of it again.

Like her amortentia, which was curious, considering its a disgusting habit she had no like for. She also smelled a musky cologne, which was swimming through her brain right now.

The petrichor was just from being outside though, it wasn't him. 

_Was he out here smoking? That's against the —_

"It's not that stupid, in the grand scheme of things. Isn't Potter's Boggart a dementor or something?" He asks with his head tilted, taking her in more, studying her expressions that she suddenly felt self-conscious about.

She nods. "A Boggart, yes. But. . . things have changed since third year, I'm positive its different."

". . .Voldemort?"

Air was sucked through her teeth and her eyes widened while the rest of her face felt frozen by the wind lapping around her skull. He said it so casually, like he was a family friend.

Realisation set in. Long overdue.

She was standing outside, completely alone with only the company of Theo Nott, and they were talking casually, but not as friends, almost as if they were on a date.

Steps were taken, it was her moving back and around him, keeping their eyes locked until she bolted.

"You know I actually have to go. I, uh I — I said I'd help someone with some Transfiguration homework. Goodbye."

She whipped around and hurried along. It was beginning to get dark, the coming night teasing the sky into twilight. Eyes plastered to the floor, she stared at her shoes. The cold painted bright red on her cheeks and the wind threw her hair around aimlessly still.

Elara reached the safety of her dorm in a matter of minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

**_SEPTEMBER 15TH 1996_ **   
  


She made sure she had no contact with Theo Nott at all on Friday and over the weekend.

Friday, she didn't have Defence or Potions which was a relief, as they were the only classes she shared with him. She didn't see him in the halls, and she made a point to sit far away from his line of sight in the Great Hall.

Something was off, the way he was so nosey, the way they kept having little interactions with each other, kept asking her things like he already knew the answer she was going to give him.

And she told him a secret.

Not that he'd know it was one.

Which was. . . good.

Elara was just glad he didn't seem like the type to gossip or talk about little, meaningless encounters with 'disgusting little half-bloods,' as Draco Malfoy had called her and Amber once.

Thinking about it. . . she's never heard him express any hatred for half-bloods and Muggleborns, perhaps he didn't believe in blood supremacy.

_Shut up, of course he does. Do you really think the son of one of the most loyal followers to Voldemort would allow his son to accept 'Mudbloods' into their world?_

Saturday, Elara spent the day with Hannah and Susan, sticking to the Hufflepuff basement. She knew it was pathetic by avoiding the Slytherin, but she couldn't stand the thought of looking at him: saying 'Voldemort' so casually, _being_ the son of a high ranking Death Eater, being friends with Draco Malfoy who would degrade and bully her in a millisecond. . . just being him with all his annoying, intrusive little questions.

Sunday, she was dragged out of bed by Amber, who forced her into spending 'quality best friend' time with her.

They went wandering round the castle, chatting; into the Gryffindor common room, laughing with Ron and Dean; did some homework in her dorm as Amber gossiped, and went for a swim in the Black Lake after dinner, after curfew — which Elara was not happy about.

But she was happy that she didn't see Theo.

Yet. . . a small, desperate, part of her wishes he would back her into one of the cold, stone walls, in an isolated hallway and force her to say everything that's been on her mind. Watch her with those deep, yet soft in colour eyes, as she spilled everything out onto the floor.

It was all very confusing.

She needed to hate him, but this other _person_ that she's etched so deep into her own skin had this obsessive need to always be kind and polite, the blueprint of what a Hufflepuff is, a perfect daughter.

_Break, please_.

She wanted it to break. Someone to come along with a sledgehammer and break that person down until she was who she really is.

Her tongue is throbbing, she's been biting it for too long.

She can't break herself on her own.

Despite the need of this person to leave, break, crumple, crease, break, tear, fray _anything. . ._ Elara feels. . . safe in her skin.

—

She smells like it again, only the strawberry is stronger.

Theo wonders if perhaps she ate some for breakfast — strawberries.

He couldn't see her after all. Elara had made a point not to let him, and he couldn't just up and leave from his spot with Blaise and Draco — they'd ask why.

Today, Monday, after not seeing her during the weekend nor Friday, Theo can see her. She's sat next to him in Defence and presents herself how she usually does: legs crossed under the table, head in her left hand, her right taking her quill and scratching notes into the parchment that's half-filled already.

Her hair was down today. A deep golden brown with hints of chestnut, dead straight, flowing down the length of her back until just under where Theo imagined her shoulder blades to be.

She looks nice, of course. When does she not?

Theo tilted his head as everything around her blurred, and the drawl of Snape's voice buzzed into nothingness.

Elara was. . . quite beautiful, nothing special, but beautiful.

And it's expected with her personality and social life.

He wondered, if she'd ever change her appearance, given the chance. Would she change the colour of her hair? Get piercings beyond her lobes? Tattoos?

Theo would. If his father wasn't. . . _him_ , Theo would get tattoos. A few of them. He hasn't figured out _what_ he would get — doesn't need to. His father will live for a long time no doubt. _Immortal_ _git_.

Theodore Nott Sr has never even been injured on a mission for Voldemort. Never injured as a kid. Never even sprained an arm or leg.

The most damage Theo saw to his father was a paper cut.

"Now. . . even though we are on the topic of non-verbal's. . . I will be giving you all a project about another topic before we begin it after the practicals."

People were already groaning.

Theo rolled his eyes. Elara looked unbothered.

"As we approach the physical learning aspect of the spells, you will be working to produce a presentation of either Dementors. . . or Inferi. Whichever one shows the most _common_ _knowledge_ between you all, we will start next term."

Hermione Granger's hand was already in the air, waving around like she was having a seizure, ready to ask one million questions.

Snape ignored her, and Theo smirked.

_That girl is a nightmare. At least Elara acts like a normal smart person. But Granger? No, she's obsessed, like it gives her orgasms or something._

"You will be presenting all information you find to the class on the first Friday of December, and will be working with the person sat next to you."

_Of course, as luck would have it: more time with princess._

Theo turned his gaze to Elara, who was now sitting upright, eyes wide and hands in her lap, picking hastily at her cuticles.

Now _. Now_ she decides to react to the class.

He rolled his eyes.

_Calm down, darling. I don't bite. . . unless you want me to of course._

Her hazel eyes stayed wide until they were dismissed. She grabs her belongings, shoves them into her bags and turns to see him watching her, a brow raised in the perfect arch. He's packing up too, _slowly_.

He watches her lips as she sucks in a breath through her teeth. Perfectly straight and white. She stares for three seconds between his eyes before hardening her stare and pretending not to be nervous.

Theo didn't, but he wanted to laugh.

"I'll — we'll meet in the library Wednesday at seven, then we can decide how to do this from there."

She left the room, gaze to the floor and shoes clicking quickly against the hardwood floor. Theo followed her out, she was quick to get away, but when she stammered on whether to turn left or right, he caught her elbow.

Elara flinched and spun around, like a snake again, ready to strike. She looked incredibly offended as she looked down between where he held onto her and his eyes.

She parted her lips to speak but his lazy smirk cut her off.

She tried again after a few prolonged seconds.

"L-Let," she coughed and tried again. "Let go of me Theo."

His face represented that of a shrug and he pulled back, hands raising in defence.

"I was only going to say. . . Elara, that we could meet in the library now. I know you have a free period."

A chuckle left her lips like a kiss as she crossed her arms over herself, not even bothering to try and hide a slight glare.

"I guess you'd know that from all the stalking you're doing. Hmm?" She asked the question smoothly, the accusing tone matching perfectly with her furrowed brows.

Theo's stare loitered for too long on her facial expression, and at his awareness of what he was doing, he shook his head and pretended her words confused him. "Sorry. . . stalking you?" A low laugh rumbled from his throat. "Why would I want to stalk you? You have the most generic school life possible."

Elara smirked - just a small pouting of the lips; a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head. It was so subtle, it was even more infuriating for Theo who realised the foolish mistake.

"So you know about my school life? You're not really doing a good job at making me think you're not stalking me, Theo."

His bottom lip was quickly between his teeth and both his dark brows were raised. He was shaking his head to himself while trying to fight off the smile at all these layers she was showing to him.

"Silly witch, I'm not stalking you —" Elara went to interrupt, cut in, but he pressed his finger to her lips and stopped her. For a second, a small second, his brain fuzzed at the lips under his fingertip: soft and plump. He scrunched up his face and pulled his hand away.

"— I'm not _stalking_ you, and now that that's settled. . . would you like to sit with me in the library now so we can talk about this project, and get it over with sooner rather than later. Or, would you like to wait two days and do it then, the decision is all yours, princess."

Elara's face softens — slightly — and then she says, "I actually have somewhere to be, hence my initial rush to get out of the classroom." He hid the annoyance well as she smiled, turned, and walked away, melting out of sight in the black sea of students.

_Guess I'll have time to write a list of my questions. . ._

—

As night fell, the blue haze of day lifted to reveal the stars. Elara sat at the seat beneath the rounded window in her dorm reading, feeling the mustard pillow at the curve of her back keeping her comfortable as she poured herself into the aged pages of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.'

She felt herself taking many breaks though. As much as she admired the books written by the Muggle Shakespeare, Elara found his work a little hard to read due to the old language and wording.

Her eyes kept drifting off upwards, staring out at the night sky littered with more stars than usual, and finished off with the elegant glow of the moon which poured into the room like milk.

Between pages, she noticed the constellation 'Leo' was standing out among others tonight — her favourite actually.

She had just gotten enough of reading one of the beginning pages of the comedy over again when her door burst open and a fluffy head of ebony hair stormed in.

Lady sprang off of the bed and into Elara's lap at the noise, which was strange, since it happened so often.

Elara set her book aside and flipped a leg over the other, moving the fluffy black cat and onto the window seat. She watched as the girl paced the room.

A dramatic, heavy sigh. "Is there a reason a Gryffindor Chaser has barged into my room looking sexually frustrated? I thought they were all straight." Amber shot her a death glare. "Though. . . that Ginny Weasley radiates extreme bisexual energy."

"Oh come off it," she scoffed with an irritated expression. Amber then let out an exasperated sigh and flopped onto Elara's bed, facing the canopy.

"So. Are we going to talk about who's put you in such a state?"

Her head snapped to the side, her's and Elara's eyes connected, and she could see no signs of marks of tears. Her eyes though, held a fire. Redder than the one in the Gryffindor common room, and more dangerous than a starved lion.

"Miles fucking Bletchley."

"Slytherin's keeper?"

"Slytherin's fucking keeper. Yes, Elara."

When Elara moved and settled next to Amber on the bed, she smiled. "And can I ask what he's done?" She peers down at her, face resolutely unimpressed with Bletchley.

"I don't know... you won't tell Hannah or Susan?" She asks this because it's serious, it's affected her. With a dip of Elara's chin, Amber rants. "So, today, the Quidditch pitch was Gryffindor's from three 'till six in the afternoon. We were all changed and walking out of the locker rooms when this manky green swamp struts over to us."

Elara raised her brow. "You mean the Slytherin Quidditch team?"

Amber shot her a pointed look and continued. " _They_ claimed it was their day for the pitch, even though the rota was checked twice by Mcgonagall due to some interference with the Aurors or guarding the school — something like that anyway."

Her chest expanded as she inhaled and sighed with more effect. "So we're like 'what the bloody hell are _you_ doing here?' and they buffed out all their little scrawny chests and were like: 'it's _our_ day for the pitch, Snape said so —" Her voice lowered as she intimidated a male's words. "— So obviously we asked if we could see a note or something and they had _nothing!_ I was furious and told them to back off then — because they were already dressed and everything —"

Elara rushed her finger to Amber's lips and cut her off. She gave her own pointed look to the girl and rolled her eyes.

"I love you, and don't mind helping you get things off your chest, but take a breather and get to what Miles did."

Amber looked downward briefly and then said, "Sorry, I'll do that."

She didn't do that. Twenty minutes and five side story's later, Amber got to the point of why she was pissed with Miles Bletchley.

He had gotten a little more heated than the rest of his team — same for Amber. The two had been face to face, noses apart as they screeched at each other about the Quidditch pitch, (this is where the sexual tension came in) soon though, the conversation drifted from that.

Miles began hitting her with insults, doing the expected by comparing her to her sister, Angelina. Everyone at school knew she hated it, which was a mistake on her part as she revealed it during a heated argument in fourth year.

Apparently he had said something along the lines of: 'same fucking outrageous hair; same big mouth, same position on the pitch, (I wonder if you'd be the same in bed) and listing other things that were sure to piss her off. It was hard to tell while she was burning with rage.

_"She's long left this school and I'm still being compared to her. You'd think people would be a little more creative, especially a Slytherin. Unbelievable."_ She had said at the end of the rant, huffing.

"Now," Amber said, slapping her thighs and standing from the bed, moving in front of Elara and crossing her arms. She gulped. "Are you going to tell me why you looked so. . . puzzled, when I stormed in?"

She was feeling more emotions than just _puzzled_ when she walked in, but she hadn't thought Amber noticed.

Her eyes darkened, and she glanced upward, her mouth pursed but slightly opened and loosened. Her eyes were fixed at a point over her shoulder as she thought about Theo and backed back into her window seat.

_"It's not that stupid." Almost kind, reassuring._

_"Why did you look so painfully fucking bored, to the point where you could be depressed, at breakfast this morning?" Observant, curious. No, nosey._

_"You never answered the question, Hunt." Trying to intimidate her._

_"Tell me, Hunt. Do you ever get tired of being so. . . Prim?" Annoying. That was just annoying._

Amber calling her name startled her back into the dorm. Elara blinked, refocused. "You on drugs or something? If so, thank you for finally taking my advice." She grinned a little too much but it faded with the shaking of Elara's head.

"I'll tell you just, don't tell the others of course."

"Duh."

Elara laughed, a manic sound that completely contrasted her real emotions on the matter. "Theo Nott."

Amber's unbothered face put her off. Her arms were folded over her chest and she was leaning against the bedpost lazily. "Theo Nott?" She repeated casually.

"Yes, Theo Nott."

Her hands fell to her sides and she came to sit in the space next to Elara, folding her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "And what has he done exactly? I've never even seen you two within ten feet of each other."

Glancing out of the window, she knotted her brows together and sighed heavily. "I'm not sure," she said. "That's the point of it all."

"Okay. . . I'm not entirely sure what that means. Um, when did it start? Tell me about that."

So she explained. She told Amber about helping Professor Sprout and his initial rudeness. About him pinning her to the wall and almost flirting with her, asking her the question about being prim. She told her about Theo watching her from across the hall and questioning her later in on class while snatching her quill from her, (she didn't mention the specifics of the question) and about pressuring her to answer that question.

Then, bumping into each other on the way back to the castle, him being kind, then saying his name so casually, almost with a grin on his face.

And most recently, the situation from after Defence. His finger against her lips. . .

"So, what should I do? I have to meet him in the library Wednesday night. How do I act?"

Amber brushed her bottom lip with the side of her knuckle as she thought. After a few moments of Elara watching her with a blank expression, the girl brought her hand away and leaned back against the wall behind her.

"Sounds like he wants something to me. Sex? Maybe. To humiliate you? Possibly. In my expert advice," she pressed her hand against her sternum and smiled devilishly. "Just be careful. You don't want to be humiliated, so _do_ _not_ reveal secrets or anything of the sort. Maybe let him know you know he wants something, but without saying that."

Elara dipped her chin in a nod.

"Then if he wants sex, _which I don't know why you wouldn't want from him_ , just don't give him the opportunity to back you into a wall. And then if he's being nosey, which could be a factor for both main conclusions, simply don't answer his questions — you have the self control."

"Okay — yeah. Self control, be careful, no secrets, don't answer questions. Got it."

Then Amber was leaning closer, a hand on Elara's thigh and a devious look in her eye.

"However, this all sounds similar to the symptoms of a crush. . . so don't be _too_ closed off, just in case you ruin it. He's hot, and insanely rich, Elara."

A scoff escaped from the depths of her throat before she could hold it back. "Theo Nott definitely doesn't have a crush on me."  
  
  


**_SEPTEMBER 17TH 1996_ **   
  


Wednesday came around wonderfully quick for Theo.

He arrived in the library at precisely seven o'clock in the evening. He gave a short nod to Madam Pince who brushed it off with a scowl and took a sip from her mug. He set himself down somewhere with all his necessary items he did not intend on using as he was more bothered with questioning Elara — who was late.

The long hand on the clock that sat on the wall above him clicked past the number five when Elara arrived at the secluded table in the back of the golden library.

Already, she looked a little pissed off, meaning a little less work for him.

"Good to see you're looking well, Hunt," he greeted with a smirk as she pulled out the chair opposite his.

Not looking at him, picking her belongings from her bag she said, "Yes, thank you. You too, Theo."

Elara frowned to herself as she took her own notes and started to analyse them, sorting them into two piles. The silence was a little tense to begin with but she eventually became accustomed to his presence, and shared her notes with him, saying quietly, "We're doing Dementors."

They barely spoke for half an hour as they read over her material she had obviously worked on beforehand to minimise her time with him. As he debated which way to go about this, she spoke only a few times, asking him to pass her back some pieces of parchment.

She was obviously in a bad mood, which meant intimation would not be effective. Neither would flirtation, thank Merlin.

But his favourite option of winding her up would.

When Elara returned from plucking a few books from the library stacks on the species, Theo shuffled his seat a little closer to her, just enough so she wouldn't notice, but enough to get started.

He leaned in, peering over her shoulder to see inches of words on Dementors already, all spelled perfectly and presented beautiful with her cursive handwriting.

Theo let out a groan, making him peer at him from over her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" She said. No hint of concern in her voice.

Leaning back in his chair, and motioning to her full parchment and his blank one, he said, "Do we really have to do Dementors? I have much more knowledge on Inferi and to be quite fair, well, in your case not so fair, you never gave me a choice on the matter, Hunt."

She looked him up and down, taking in his childlike state of an oncoming tantrum.

Moving her chair further away, she straightened out her posture and looked down on him, slouched in his seat. "You should have protested when I first told you if you _were_ in fact so bothered, Theo. I already have inches written out."

He moved forwards and crossed his arms on the table, soft blue eyes darting over hers, looking for that fire. Theo smirked.

"Yes. . . but you've ignored my existence ever since you sat down here. How could I protest?" He waved a hand through the air, dismissing that part of the argument. "Anyways, like I said, I know more about Inferi, so how is this fair?"

He could see it. In the way her chest expanded slower, her lips pressed tightly shut, her nostrils flared ever so slightly. He could see her rising anger, rising need to break in the way she gripped her quill, nearly snapping it. Her eyes launching daggers at his chest.

Elara's lips patted, then closed, then opened again as she shook her head. She'd softened.

"Look, it's a partner project, which means we're working on this together — no offence, but I am smarter than you, so just, copy off me."

_Ouch._

Pressing out his bottom lip, and splaying his hand across where his heart was, he said, teasingly, "You wound me, Hunt. I am smart enough for you to rely on me."

It was rising again, building up like a tsunami. Dragging out the calm, soundless swirls at the shore, back into the chaos and destruction of the heavy, crashing waves.

"I'm sorry but I just don't trust that. You're smart yes, but how many times have you been caught smoking in the castle? Out past curfew? Dizzy in the kitchens with a bottle of Ogden's finest in your palm? How many times have you skived off class because of a hangover a simple Pepperup potion won't cure?"

And when he thought the tsunami was about to crash down, she smiled, stilling her waves, freezing them mid-air and saving them for later.

"So if you don't mind, I'd like to carry on with Dementors." Elara pushed some stray pieces of parchment over to him. "Feel free to help yourself to my material, though."

She went to turn, but Theo's hand shot out to her shoulder, twisting her back to face him. She looked at the space he was touching her with almost a grimace plastered onto her.

"Don't do that," he said in a low whisper. Eyes dark and tone not one for wanting to be tested.

Elara snatched back her shoulder, pulling up her robe that slipped slightly. "Do what?" she spat back.

He paused, which apparently was an invitation for her to carry on as she was before they spoke. Theo couldn't have her distracting herself. He snatched her quill and tossed it at the other end of the table, then, he laid his arm over her parchment and scooted his chair closer, so she had no choice but to engage in this conversation.

Her eyes were wide, not with fear, though.

"Don't only be snappy with me, and don't _fucking_ try and hide the fact you're pissed off." Her eyes were filled with fear now. . . he didn't care.

"You don't even snap at Draco for fuck sake, and he is _much_ worse than me. So, tell me _Elara_ , what buttons am I pressing that he doesn't? What buttons am I pressing that hearing him call Granger a 'Mudblood' doesn't? That a creep like Cormac, whispering no doubt filthy things in your ear at the Gryffindor table doesn't."

Theo studied her, a brief overlook. Her knuckles were a ghostly white from clenching her fist too hard, and gritted teeth behind her closed rosebud lips from effort to remain silent. Her face was red with suppressed rage, and when Theo smirked, he saw in her eyes how she had snapped.

_Oh how he wanted to see this beautiful button he was pressing._

He wasn't done, she couldn't speak yet.

"And tell me," he leaned closer, noses only inches apart, eyes dancing with the others' in a battle for dominance in this situation, but, of course Theo was winning. "Do you let your friends see this side of you? The side that looks _so fucking bored and painfully depressed._ The side that looks like she wants to kill someone. The side that snaps at people, gets all. . . feisty and hotheaded. And dare I say — rude."

She was seething. "You don't know anything about me." Her body was begging to put distance between them. She was nervous. Not because he was a male, or he thought he'd hurt her, but because he was right.

Theo's eyes moved to a strand of hair fallen from where it was tucked behind her ear. He reached his hand up and put it back in place, smiling innocently, watching as her eyes tried to follow his hand.

"I think I know enough about you to push that button I was talking about."

"You're not pushing any buttons —"

"So do your friends know how fake you are?"

Elara gasped.

Her eyes suddenly had a glassy sheen to them, and she was looking down slightly, avoiding his pressing eye contact.

Realisation that Theo may have taken it a little too far without any answers hit him like a _crucio_ to the balls. She wasn't going to talk, not now when she had been shoved over the edge instead of. . . gracefully helped.

He stood abruptly, and her hazel eyes snapped up. The glassy sheen had melted into the corner of her eyes slightly.

Collecting his things, ready to leave, Theo said as famous last words, "Fuck this project."

Then she was standing too, squaring her shoulders to his, maintaining eye contact two seconds ago she was afraid to hold, while also gathering up her scrolls.

"Fuck this project you say? Okay. Fine, Theo — I'll do this by myself. You never wanted to do Dementors anyways so this is perfect. Don't you worry your pretty little head about any of this."

Well he didn't mean that, but he was pissed at her for having this facade in the first place, for making him so curious and nosey.

"Just — fuck. Please stop talking to me. . . you're irritating. You know that? _Fucking_ irritating." He flung his bag over his shoulder and gave her one more look over, sneering perfectly. "Oh, and it's 'Nott' to you."


	6. Chapter 6

**_SEPTEMBER 26TH 1996_ **   
  


"You're staring, mate. Penny for your thoughts?"

Theo lazily lifted his head from where it was rested in his right hand and looked to his left at a smug Blaise Zabini. His white smile was piercing and subtle all at the same time.

Theo was indeed staring at Elara. Who was perched on the opposite side of the Potions classroom with her obnoxious friend Amber Johnson, the Quidditch girl. Both were huddled over a cauldron while Johnson chatted animatedly and like the morning where Cormac had sat with her briefly, Elara looked bored and on the verge of depression.

It had been nine days since their brawl in the library, and she had made good not to speak to him — what he asked her to do. However, he couldn't help but feel disheartened, in both himself and her.

Himself, for saying what he said in the first place, and her, for listening. Not protesting and demanding he help her with the assignment. At least putting _some_ effort in.

In the nine days since, he hadn't seen her smile once. She'd been in this _haze_ of nothingness. Staring off at other points in the room instead of the people around her; not laughing along at either the Hufflepuff or Gryffindor table like she used to. Hell, even when she caught him out past curfew smoking again, during her prefect rounds a few nights ago, all she did was blink twice and walk around him.

"My thoughts? On what exactly?" he asked with a subtle brow raise.

Blaise motioned his head to the place where Elara was standing. Theo followed the movement — her hair was fluffier than usual. He grimaced slightly. She resembled Granger, and as much as he'd like to see Elara different. . . he did _not_ want to see her with hair the size of a Hippogriff.

"Let me guess. . ." Blaise nudged his shoulder with his. "You wanna fuck her or something?"

Theo slumped his shoulders as he breathed a laugh through his nose. His brows raised high and a fake smile teased his lips. "Fuck no." He said confidently. Truth is, he had thought about fucking her, but not because he wanted to, because. . . well just for a different reason than that. "She just —" he glanced back slightly and sighed, his brows came down and they knotted together. "She's confusing, that one. Something about her doesn't seem right."

Blaise Zabini was smooth. Always calm, always knows what to do in every situation, meaning Theo rarely saw the boy surprised. "Elara Hunt confuses you?" his tone was casual and light, but his chocolate eyes were double the size.

Theo scowled at him slightly. "Yes. She confuses me," his tone was defensive. "I assume a girl has confused you before, no?"

"Not one like her."

His face crumpled again. "And that means what exactly?"

Blaise set his powdered moonstone down and shot Theo a serious look, then looked at Elara and that look turned to an _'It should be fucking clear_ ' one.

"Look at her Theo, think about who she is." He turned back to him and leaned in, so they were both watching her but conversing. "For starters, she's a Hufflepuff, simple enough — kind, hardworking, patient, loyal. _Then_ , on top of that, she's a prefect which means she's big on rules and being a good student." He sighed dramatically, in a way that suggested he shouldn't be having to explain this. "And then take in how she got to being a prefect. Good marks, helpful, never had a detention in her life —"

"Pansy and Draco always get detentions, they're prefects." Theo countered.

He had thought about all of this before, but never out of someone else's mouth. Hell, not even out of his own mouth. He's compared Elara to Pansy, and pointed out their only difference is their house, home life and sex life — not that he knew much about Elara's.

"Shut up," said Blaise, tediously. "Let me carry on." Theo raised his hands in defence and motioned his head to Elara as a sign for him to continue.

"So. Hufflepuff, prefect, good student. Then, it's _popular_. She's friends with almost every gay guy and girl in this school." Blaise grabbed Theo's chin from the side and was moving his head to look at the people around her. "Look how they all interact with her. See? Bell's offering her last supply of mint because she doesn't have any and — and there! Finnegan bumped into her now he's checking if she's okay and steadying her balance."

Theo ripped his chin from Blaise's hold. An aggravated look on his face that almost matched Draco's day-to-day one.

"And the straight guys act like this. But the straights mostly want her in their beds, that's why they act like that. The exceptions are those straights closest to her; Weasley, who dribbles over Granger, and Potter who's too busy using his Gryffindor hero-complex to save the world every year. Then her Hufflepuff chums but they're irrelevant. The guys that want her in their beds though?" The Zabini signature smirk was back. "Can't get her because she's a virgin."

An obvious observation, but unconfirmed. "And how do you know that?"

This time Blaise looked at Theo when he spoke. Only once or twice glancing in the Hufflepuff Princess' direction. "Have you ever seen her with a man on her arm? Kiss her cheek at breakfast? Walk her to her classes? _No_. And she's definitely not the type to have casual sex, believe me."

_Fair point there, Blaise._

"Right anyways. . . ah! her brothers. You remember Kai and Lorenzo Hunt?"

Briefly. "The older one was Head boy and the other one was Quidditch captain for Hufflepuff right?"

He gave a proud smile, flashing those no doubt fake teeth. _Seriously, where the fuck did he get those from?_ "Yes. Kai was Head boy in our first year and Lorenzo was Quidditch captain in our second and third. So what I mean to say is, her older brothers are perfect too. Oh, and. . . on the note of older brothers — they probably don't let her date."

"Why?"

He scoffed a laugh, turning and blending in the asphodel to his cauldron. "Heck if I know. You think Adrian lets Madeline date? _No_. It's some sort of _unspoken_ rule between siblings. Just girls or just boys are different, they don't need to. . . protect each other."

Theo elbowed the boy, spilling the contents of his spoon slightly. He winced. "Blaise, Madeline is in her second year, nobody was dating in second year."

And then he was smirking again. "Other than you."

Right, other than him. . . "Daphne was a mistake that happened for _way_ too long. Continue."

He wasn't lying. Daphne Greengrass was a _huge_ mistake. He began dating her in second year. A young schoolboy/ schoolgirl 'romance.' What he didn't realise is that she was partly insane.

The woman never let him speak to anyone else, sit with anyone else. She even got upset that he shared a dorm with people and tried to get her father to move him into his own room.

Pansy, _thankfully_ , being the godsend that she is, took it upon herself to end that relationship by snogging Theo at the Yule ball. Daphne thought he cheated and never wanted to speak to him again — which Theo was thankful for.

Pansy had been Draco's date, but he didn't mind, he knew it was _well_ needed.

Everything went back to normal the next day, minus the fact he didn't have a girlfriend anymore.

"Yes. Now. . . perfect brothers. Perfect siblings, all three of them, means the parents are perfect, right? Father is loving, Mother is the definition of beautiful and kind — they're no doubt married and have been for a while." He shrugged. "They're probably smart Hufflepuffs and all that nonsense too."

"So anything else? Or are you finally done analysing this more than Arithmancy homework?"

"No, other than the final verdict." He paused and braced a hand on the table.

Theo's left brow curved into the perfect arch. "And that is?"

Blaise pointed a finger at the boy's chest. "You need not be confused, Theodore." He moved that finger to her direction. "Elara Hunt, is a plain little girl. Vanilla is what you call it I think. Even if she wasn't a virgin, sex would be the missionary position with absolutely no foreplay, and If you were to be her boyfriend, she'd be the type to fold your laundry and make it smell like her because it's 'romantic.'"

He couldn't help but feel that Blaise was. . . wrong on that note. At a first glance, yes. But with all the small layers Theo's seen in her in a small amount of time, she seems the type to want more than a relationship from the fifties.

"Sounds like you've thought about Hunt as your girlfriend quite a lot."

Blaise chuckled, his shoulders moved with him. "Oh I haven't. That all came to me right now."

"Poetic, Blaise," he replied plainly.

"Poetic?" The smirk was back again. And it's funny because it never gets old, always charming and always has a different element of _something_ behind it. A cheeky glint was in his irises and he dropped his voice to a small whisper in Theo's ear.

"What's poetic is the way I'd like to have her between my silk sheets and absolutely destroy her — consensual of course." He winked. "I'd die for the chance to make her think she'll never have it as good as me again. To the point where she's dripping between the thighs and pleading with that perfecting pink mouth."

Scoffing, he shoved Blaise back to his cauldron by the shoulder. "I'd like to not think about your sexual fantasies, thank you. I'm already scarred enough from walking into you doing it against a wall with Tracey."

He laughed again and raised his shoulder, as if to say, _'your problem not mine.'_

"So, how did you come to that conclusion of her being. . . _vanilla,_ you called it?"

"Yes. Well, the other night, Greg, Miles, Astoria, Tracey, and of course, me," He placed a hand on his chest and flashed his teeth. "We're drinking in the girls dorms and I asked Astoria — a tease that one — if getting Elara into those silk sheets was worth it."

"And what did she say? That Hunt's vanilla?"

Maybe Theo could seduce her instead. If she moans or screams could tell him everything he needed to know.

He waved his hand through the air, dismissing it. "Na, said she simply wasn't worth it. Isn't in her nature unless you take her out to eat first and all that fuckery. I wasn't interested in that aspect. Oh! That reminds me, scratch what I said about the perfect parents."

_What_? "Why?"

"Remember on the train when Astoria was talking about writing to the girl after she left to go hand out those Quibbler's?"

He nodded. Of course, it's where his curiosity bloomed. "Yes."

"Well, couple firewhiskey's later that night she brought the topic up again and showed me the note."

_Ding ding ding._

"What did it say?"

"Can't remember — wait," he reached into his bag, ruffling some things around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. "See for yourself." He handed it to Theo who unfolded it with curious fingers.

𝑨𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒂,

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑.

𝑴𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒐'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍. 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒘𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆'𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎.

𝑲𝒂𝒊 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕. 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒛𝒐, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏.

𝑨𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆. . . 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒅.

𝑵𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝑨𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒓. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒌, 𝒐𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔.

𝑯𝒎, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐, 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒕 𝑯𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔.

𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒙𝒙

_Shit_.

Something _was_ under there, under the rules, the expectations, the incessant need to be sweet. Someone different.

Theo never expected this could be the reason though.

He felt like shit.

Elara didn't _mean_ anything to him. He didn't like the scent of strawberries or a fucking spring day. But. . . he felt fucking bad. Pushing for something hidden beneath when it was really just _this_.

She was grieving.

And Theo was driving her insane.

Under the looks, the smarts, the rules, _everything_ , was a grieving daughter.

Theo knew how that felt. The pain was fresh after the news the summer brought.

He needed to fix this.

Why? He wasn't sure. Like he said, he doesn't _care_ for Elara. Theo lost a mother to though, in a similar way, meaning it wasn't a blood curse or a natural cause.

If someone was up his arse trying to wind them up, flirt with him, be nosey and rude all at the same time he'd explode.

He needed to see Pansy.

—

"Pansy Genevieve Parkinson."

Theo stormed into her dorm, which thankfully, only contained a petite brunette sitting cross-legged on her bed, piles of what seemed to be Transfiguration homework laid out in front of her.

For a moment he had to squint his eyes, get them to refocus. The room was bright. Her room was always dramatically bright.

He rolls his eyes when he regains his focus.

_Girls_.

It's probably got something to do with Pansy's fantasy of standing in the middle of a Muggle theatre with a single spotlight on her.

She said she saw it in a movie, _whatever that is._

Pansy looked up with her full brown eyes that immediately upon seeing him roll to the back of her head. Her legs uncrossed and she manoeuvred herself around the parchment and off of the bed. When she spoke she was leaning against her bedpost.

"What did you do this time? Knock someone up?"

Her tone is light, unbothered, because he always does this. Barges in asking for help. He asks Pansy instead of Blaise or Draco because unlike them, she's a woman. She'll tell it as it is. Think logically and realistically with her head instead of irrationally with a dick.

Theo grinned, loving her casual bluntness, something more people need to invest in.

"Not quite yet, Pans. Haven't found the right one to balance out my ridiculously handsome genes," he counters back with a grin.

If Pansy is the definition of blunt, Theo is the definition of sarcastic. A lovely duo.

She tilts her head to the side, dark, brown curls fall onto her shoulder, framing her face that is resolutely unimpressed. "So is it a girl problem?" She asks, getting straight to the point. "What? Can't get your dick hard anymore? Have a wet dream about someone you hate?" Her head jerks up. "Lay it on me, T."

He frowns a little too hard for her 'joke.' "My dick's fine, thank you. And I haven't had a wet dream since I was like. . . twelve. _This_ is a hypothetical matter."

"Right." Pansy nods, and it has a hidden message, one that says 'I know you're lying already.' " _Hypothetical_." She takes a sip of coffee, which has suddenly materialised in her hand. Her rings tap against the mug as she waits for Theo to continue.

He moves across the room, four paces and he now sits in Pansy's wooden chair, opposite a large mirror, and some potions, one of which he identifies as anti-ageing. The urge to roll his eyes is back, but he doesn't.

Theo's drumming his fingers against his thigh, and two minutes pass before he can find the right words without revealing everything.

"So _hypothetically_ speaking. There's this _person_ who seems really strange to me, but normal to everyone else. And — erm. . . it's because everyone else thinks that they're normal that I did what I did. . . _hypothetically_."

He hesitates, Pansy sees it.

"Do go on." She's moved to her mattress, sitting at the edge of it, long, tan legs crossed with aristocratic elegance.

"So I've been trying — _hypothetically_ — to show everyone they're actually pretty fake, because that's what was strange about them. I'd wind them up, poke my nose where it doesn't belong, try to intimidate them. I even tried flirting."

Pansy leans back on her hands, her face intrigued. "How is that going to show everyone? Doing all those things. Showing that they're fake."

His teeth grind together in an attempt to stop him from just telling her — Pansy, his best friend since before he could remember. But he has to hold himself back, it's just better in the long run.

"I know this is all very spotty and confusing, but, well, when she gets angry she seems to let her guard down, _no_ , a sort of facade down, and who she really is comes out. And then the side of her that everyone else sees — falls down, and who she really is comes out. She's strange because she's fake and nobody else notices."

"So it _is_ a girl."

In her accidental triumph, she smirked — just a small pouting of the lips; a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head. It was so subtle, it was even more infuriating for Theo who caught a glimpse of it after making his foolish mistake.

"I never said that."

"Didn't need to, my love." Her smirk deepens, and it's so different to Blaise's. It's filled with mischief, knowledge, a secret plan, agenda.

He chooses to ignore it. Too much defence and she'll know she's right.

"Can I carry on?"

With a flip of her chestnut hair over her shoulder, Pansy nods.

"Okay so hypothetically this person is a girl — because that makes more sense with the flirting — and I'm trying all these things to stop her from being so fake so that everyone will know who she truly is. Because it's so _frustrating_ for people to be so clueless, even her closest friends. It works a little, I can see it in her eyes that she's admitted it to herself, but, when she's finally where I need her, something changes."

"Mystery girl isn't as strange as you think and you're just in need of an appointment with a psychiatric healer?" She looks at him like a sick child. Her lip is jutted out, her eyes are soft and she's now leaning forwards. Elbow on her crossed knee, holding up her chin. "Pansy can owl in for you if you like, sweetie."

Theo narrowed his eyes at her. His fingers stop drumming against his thigh, instead, he's leaning back and his shoe is tapping the hardwood floor in a tedious rhythmic pattern. "Fuck off," he deadpans. "This is serious."

She laughs, delicate and smooth, and all of a sudden Theo remembers when she used to have the laugh of a chicken: blocky and loud. It's gone now though, she's forced herself to change it because Draco said he hated it, thought it was weird. It's saddening. She shouldn't have to do that.

"I thought it was _hypothetical_."

He remembers the matter at hand, instead of that fact that Pansy will do almost anything for Draco's love and approval.

He makes a mental note for later to speak to Draco, tell him to let Pansy loose from his invisible hold around her throat, or he'll do something they both regret.

"It's hypothetically serious. And I'm not finished."


	7. Chapter 7

**_SEPTEMBER 26TH 1996_ **   
  


Space.

Pansy tells him to _hypothetically_ give the girl space until it's _crystal clear_ she's comfortable to talk to him.

_'This girl has been dealing with. . .well you, for a reason she does not know. Jumping back into it after finding out she's been dealing with this 'loss' you talked about is a very bad idea. You have to be sure, T.'_

And it's only late at night, while he's soaking in Pansy's words, letting them expand and stretch in his mind. When Blaise's snores start to echo off of the stone walls of their dorm, and Draco's heavy breathing is becoming a little too shaky and irregular, Theo realises.

Elara has always been this way.

And he's not just saying that because he's desperate to be right. Even though he is.

So he lays in his bed, analysing _everything_ as he stares up at the canopy of his four-poster and spreads it all out there. Almost as if he's one of those Muggle detectives.

_Surelock Home?_

Theo thinks of the classes they've shared over the years; how relieved she almost looks when the Professor picks Granger instead of her to demonstrate something or answer a question.

The relief on her face that shows she doesn't have to worry about the answer being wrong, even if she knows she's right.

Usually, he painted that expression as one that was pissed that she didn't get to answer. Like it was a failure in a competition to see who really was the brightest witch of our age.

He thinks back to all the times he's ever ran into her, passed her in the bustling hallways on a particularly busy day — usually its September or June. Students are either lost in the halls and excited to be back in September, or thrilled exams are over and ready to leave in June.

But her face is always nothing before their shoulders collide. _Nothing_. Just blank, maybe even exhausted.

Even the Head girl would be beaming at those times. She has much more on her plate.

And then when their shoulders do collide, and she realises the action, her face lightens, and she's so quick to rush out an apology and wipe on a smile. Looking like a child caught in a lie, trying to scramble their way out of it before punishment. Before the back of their hand turns red.

So quick to pull that mask down.

And it's infuriating. That it's an act, and that it's so easy for her to slide into the persona of it all.

No, more than infuriating, it's literally _blood-boiling._

Because do you know that Theo wanted to be everything Elara was before he realised she's nothing but a fucking worthless fake?

Good, kind, generous, hard-working. Having a simple _fucking_ life where his mother wasn't dead and his father wasn't a high ranking Death Eater?

Where he could choose his classes, choose the side of the war he believed in, choose who his friends were.

Even though he refused the mark in the summer, Theo knows it will be inked into his skin the next time he visits the manor. Coursing through his veins and tainting everything.

_Because_ of his father, because of the side he's been forced onto, because none of them have a choice.

Because it was never an option when Theodore Nott Sr asked his son, no matter how he worded it.

Voldemort would never let an unmarked son roam free.

He's grateful though that he got stuck with Blaise and Draco as friends, even if they can be insensitive cunts. Because Theo knows for a fact anyone else in their shitty house would feed off of all those facts he hates. His money, his father's rank, his own status in school, even things he's not all that aware of.

Blaise and Draco though, they're going through all the same things.

Draco could have the mark deeply engraved into his forearm by now.

However, for Blaise it's unlikely he will get the mark, and it's all because his mother kills her husbands. Nobody fucks with that.

Well, it's not that _nobody fucks with that_ , but that Voldemort — on top of all the blood supremacy and wanting to take over the entire wizarding world — is probably a sexist cunt, and women are the last ones on his list to collect.

Ignoring that, and getting back to the real matter. . .

Elara's blueprint has been frayed at the edges for a long time. It's crumpled and creased in various places, not one centimetre untouched.

So she might be grieving, and Theo still feels shitty that he's been on her case. . . but the hidden side to Elara has always been under there.

The side that wants to carry on walking when she bumps into someone.

The side that doesn't want to talk in class, just wants to chat with her friends about things she likes and get on with it.

The side that wants to bitch and argue when someone does something wrong. When they're too nosey, flirty, intimating.

Everyday, Elara becomes more exciting. And all of a sudden it's not as important for everyone else to see, just Theo.

Yes, he's admitted it, and he's fine with it.

He wants to see the real Elara. Just him. Wants to reveal her for himself, not everyone else like he originally planned.

Outing her is not a priority anymore.

There's so much more satisfaction in the thought of being the only one to know. The only one that gets to see what's under the flawless looks, perfect personality and good girl lifestyle.

_Why should everyone else get to indulge in a project that I've worked so hard on?_

Exactly. They shouldn't. Just Theo.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 1ST 1996_ **   
  


_Suddenly I'm a slave. A peasant even._

That's all Theo can think as he's forced out of the comfort of his own dorm and into the tediousness of the Hogwarts library to retrieve books for Pansy's Muggle studies project.

And all of the isles are the same. He gets caught up, his favour now in the back of his mind.

All the bookcases he looks through have its inky treasures that adorned the quiet library, quiet in that sense of easy solitude and in the sense of gentle seaside hues, soft blues, greys and browns..Books on ancient runes, blood rituals, and dark spells unheard of that should be in the restricted section.

The only sounds that fill the space are the brushes of pages being turned by soft pads of people's fingertips.

The Hogwarts library really is something else.

Placating.

Golden flecks line the walls and ceiling, crawling up the corners like thorns on a singular rose. Chairs and tables are all different shades of brown and black, yet they all work together well to create a specific feeling which is too precise to describe.

He passes by a few first years that are finally settling into the school. They're less obnoxious, and less of a threat if you want to be left alone.

But they're giggling, and it's annoying. More annoying than Elara. And Theo decides he's never having kids if they giggle like _that_.

And then Madam Pince hisses at him for dropping a chunky, brown leather book on his foot — _this is a library Mr Nott, hush!_ — and it's the first time that day that he rolled his eyes, probably a world record if he's being honest. Eight in the morning.

_Do I get a medal?_

It's when he picks that book up — _A Guide to Muggle Electronics for Beginners_ — and places it back in its dusty slot in the shelves that he decided this _really_ isn't worth his time and that Pansy can just come and do it herself.

She has hands, she has working feet.

Then again, he tries to remember a time he actually did nice things for Pansy out of the generosity of his heart; the way she willingly spills her knowledge of teenage girls and what to do if they're being too bitchy or clingy.

Still, he doesn't want to be here. He wants to be in the Great Hall, filling his stomach with fried eggs and crispy bacon before Crabbe and Goyle take the lot.

He sighs, rolls his eyes, kicks the bottom of the shelf for good measure — making it wobble slightly and one book down the line drops onto a first year's head — and spins on his heel, heading for those large, golden doors.

But then he hears it.

Her.

And usually he'd stay away, like he has been. But it's what she says that makes him look around a corner and seek her out.

"I've told you a million times, and I don't know if I can say it so politely anymore if it's not getting through to you, Cormac."

Elara. Of _fucking_ course.

She's sat at one of those mahogany tables — the same one they studied at together. Parchment, quills, both normal and sugar, are sprawled out in front of her. Purple lines her eyes and even from his distance Theo can see her hands shaking.

Cormac is in the seat Theo only once occupied. His arm is laid flat against her work like his was, but his other is on the back of her chair. And he may as well be pinning her against the wall. He is.

Theo sees his head tilt, and his chair move closer.

_I'm no fucking knight in shining armour but something tells me I'm going to have to intervene. Lovely._

"C'mon 'Lara. I can call you that right? Who cares? Look, I know you want me as much as I want you. And to be fair? It's embarrassing watching you deny it." He moves closer, and Theo himself feels violated. "Let me show you."

Elara's voice broke, as did her quill, and she was pushing herself further away, as far as she could get.

"Cormac. You're making me feel quite uncomfortable. Can you — can you just move back a little."

_Oh yeah, that's it._

His foot carries him around the corner bookshelf. Into view. Over to the table. And he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Elara Hunt," he tsked. "You wound me, you know that? I thought I was your study partner, not this oaf."

He's thrown his bag atop the table. His hand is on his heart and his bottom lip is jutted out. It's not too obvious, but he can see the relief of his mere presence in Elara's eyes.

But he knows it's going to be _so_ awkward when McLaggen leaves due to how they left things last time they talked.

And Cormac? Is an angry little thing, and Theo doesn't let him have an input, as he says, "Up. We have a very important assignment to do and if for some reason we don't hand it in on time, I'll be making you scrub my entire bathroom with your hair. And fair warning, Blaise vomits _everywhere_ when he's hungover. Not a pretty sight for a preppy thing like you."

He scoffs, stands, squares his shoulders and buffs out his chest like it really makes a difference.

"And you think I trust a snake like you to be alone with her?"

_That's actually quite laughable._

"I don't need your trust, Mclaggen. Only hers, and she does. So, move along."

"Not until she says." He's being difficult, and obviously oblivious to what happened five seconds ago, but fine — _Elara, your play._

Theo looks back at her, she's writing things down, ignoring them both completely. A coping mechanism. Ignoring things. Not the most effective. He doesn't blame her, _imagine if that thing was in your face._

She has her bottom lip between her teeth subtly, leg crossed over the other and a fist clenched in her lap.

He doesn't think she's going to say anything. Thinks she's probably just going to bite her Tigre and act through her second layer.

But then Cormac huffs, loudly, and it hints to an oncoming tantrum. He taps her on the shoulder once, she ignores, then again a little rougher, and her head snaps to him.

"Oh you can definitely fucking leave. Nott's right."

Theo's eyes open wider, and there might just be a smirk ghosting his lips as Cormac's body visibly stutters. He takes a step back, — _oh poor boy, his boggart is probably being rejected. I can see it so clearly_ — tries to nod and takes to leaving immediately. Not even giving her a polite goodbye.

And then it's just them.

And Theo's conflicted.

Will he show her that?

No.

He goes for the easiest option. Probably the most embarrassing in the long run.

"Need anything else while I'm here? Any other unwanted secret admirers I can scare off?"

Her lips lifted upward. A dimple settles in her right cheek, her teeth flash slightly, and they're perfectly aligned. "No you're okay, Nott. Thank you for that though, I was afraid I was going to have to use my wand on him."

"Not a complete pity if you did."

He sees the moment when she remembers the argument. Remembers his words, calling her fake, telling her to fucking show it if she is pissed.

A heavy silence settles over them quicker than the speed of a snitch. Thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. Unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around and tried to avoid catching other glances that passed by.

Theo shifted his weight uncomfortably from leg to leg, and she, in her seat, grasping her sweaty, nervous hands under the tables.

Elara isn't leaving though. Hasn't made a move to pack anything away.

_Crystal-clear._

He goes to apologise for being a dick — hopes she'll let him actually help with the project so he can focus on what matters, because it's not like he has anything else to do. Draco is an unsociable twat lately, there's only so many things he and Pansy can talk about, and Blaise is too busy. . . doing whatever it is that he does.

She beats him to it.

"Look, Nott. The other day. . . that little _thing_ that happened, I'm sorry. I was obviously acting quite difficult not letting you have a say in anything so I can understand why you snapped at me."

Her eyes flit between the table and his tie. Her shoes and a point over his shoulder. Never giving eye contact.

"I just — I can't stop thinking about it and how rude and dismissive I was."

She raises her palm to her temple, closing her eyes and almost cringing at herself.

"And I _know_ everyone who's in the wrong says this, but I haven't been the best lately and I know I've been acting weirdly. School is stressful, I'm doing so many things all at once and barely getting any sleep. I'm aware of all those things about looking like I want to throw myself off the edge of a cliff or whatever it was you said — that's not relevant. I—I'm sorry, that's all."

Eyes and mouth wide open and frozen in an expression of stunned surprise, Theo caught her eyes with his.

"I — you're — _you're_ sorry? You." That's all he can seem to say.

Elara has no hesitation when she says, "Yes, me. I'm sorry for how I acted that day, I don't blame you for how you acted either."

He knows what she's doing. She's trying to cover her tracks. Pretend like it didn't happen so she doesn't have to get all worked up about whether or not the next titbit of school news will be _'Elara Hunt, the biggest fucking fake I ever met.'_

But he doesn't say anything. Doesn't want to make it worse, won't let it.

His head moves in a nodding motion.

And then she leaves.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 3RD 1996_ **   
  


April Macmillan has nice lips. As far as lips go, that is. And they're good at taking Theo's mind off things.

They're smooth, a little plump — any less and it would be like kissing paper — and more importantly she knows how to use them.

She knows how to drag her tongue across Theo's. Knows how much pressure to add and which way to move her head; knows the right time to pull away with his bottom lip between her teeth and then trails a line of kisses down to his pulse point and around to his adam's apple.

And as she drags back up his throat after a few laps, he can feel a little wet mark; a shallow pool of saliva on his neck, where he suspects a purple, bruising hue may appear. He doesn't think about it longer as she swallows his thoughts with her lips, and the only thing he can feel is a pleasant buzz in his lower abdomen when she trials her hand down his torso.

That's how Elara finds them.

Hands dancing along every curve, lips pillowed against the others, hair tangled and a complete mess.

Theo was too distracted on finding a decent distraction that he forgot she's a prefect, and that she does rounds most nights on the lower floors.

"April Macmillan. . ."

Those two words is all it takes for the blonde to push Theo's body from hers. Her hand goes to her mouth, covering it like the action will change what she saw.

April steps out of the alcove, breathing heavy. She glanced at Theo, at the state he's in, then at Elara, who's watching her watch him.

Her eyes are wide as she firmly takes a hold on Elara's forearms and pleads, "Please, please, please don't tell Ernie. He will quite literally kill me Elara. Please please pl—"

"I'm not telling Ernie, April. Don't worry," she laughs. It's warm and luring and it's no wonder she has so many 'friends.'

"I do suggest though that you get back to your dorm. We both know he's probably waiting in the common room for you to return from your little. . . rendezvous."

April nods expeditiously. "Yes, yes, right. Erm, what — what should I say? If he'll be waiting."

Theo rolls his eyes from the corner.

_Does she look like your mother?_

"You can tell him I needed extra help with rounds. Say we had to catch a few Ravenclaw's camping out in the Astronomy tower. I'll back you up."

April wrapped her arms around Elara's shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm as she muttered a few more words and ran off down to the basement.

To Theo's surprise, when Elara turned her head back to him when the blonde had fully disappeared, there was a grin on her lips.

"What?" he asks defensively and almost immediately.

She glances back at that empty space, almost laughs at the circumstances, and looks back at Theo who has taken to stepping forwards and out of the alcove.

"How did you manage that?"

"That?"

"Her," she rephrased. "How did you manage getting April Macmillan in such a compromising position."

"Oh." He raises his shoulder lazily. "Well when you're Theo Nott, narrow your eyes slightly, do something subtle yet noticeable like biting your bottom lip and say the magic words. Something along the lines of —"

"I do not need to hear it."

"You _just_ asked."

Elara dismisses him while trying to hold back something between a laugh and a scoff, and leans against the cold, stone wall as they converse. "Yes, I know I just — how? Her?" Her voice drops to a whisper and she glances around. "Do you know that was probably her first kiss?"

"She didn't mention that, but she is now officially blessed," he almost sang, looking delighted. "When you go back tell her I said 'your welcome,' yeah?"

She lets out that laugh she held in. And the thought that they're having a _civil_ conversation without nosiness, random acts of flirting or trying to intimidate the other, is fucking odd.

"Sure, Nott, will do."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking deeper into the darker end of the corridor, Theo tilts his head and asks, "Anything else then or shall I scramble back to the snake pit before I get even more house points docked?"

Elara backs into the other direction, hands clasped at her front. "No, you're fine."

"Alright then, goodnight Hunt."

Elara watches as he spins on his heel and his feet carried him further away. His shoes tapping against the flooring and echoing off the walls being the only thing she hears other than her own thoughts. 

"Oh! And don't get a headache arguing with Peeves again," she hears him call.

Her soft lips curve up into a smile that just won't leave, and it hurts as well as it soothes her because it's _him_ of all people making her feel that. _Making her smile._

"I won't."

It faded as quick as it came.

"Wait! Yes. I meant yes. One more thing."

He's back again, in front of her, only this time he's welcomed by the sight of a blush crawling up her neck. From what he doesn't know.

"I don't know why I said no."

"Okay. . ." he removed a hand from his trouser pocket and waved it out at her. "Out with it then."

Elara felt the need to move. Her left hand grabbed onto her opposite upper arm tight, her weight shifted from one leg to the other; if her limbs were moving the anxiety of it was gone, or at least she could ignore it.

"I lied," she blurts.

Theo's brow arches in that aristocratic way only purebloods can pull off. His arms are now folded below his chest and his body language shows just enough that he's intrigued.

"How so?"

Her palm becomes sweaty on her arm, and it might just slip if she doesn't squeeze harder.

"I — It's, erm, when —"

"Is this explanation going to take forever because as it turns out, I'm quite agitated after not getting what I was even in that alcove for," quips Theo, though in her mind it wasn't remotely witty.

"I lied," she blurts.

"Yes you said that."

"Yes. I lied about the whole thing actually."

"And what is this _whole_ thing?"

Elara sighs — monotonous and heavy, and she's pressed her back into the opposite wall to him.

"When I said sorry for being snappy and explained the reason why. I lied. It's not because of school or my plate or anything or anyone else really. Just me."

_She needs to elaborate._ "I don't know what you're trying to get at but it's confusing me, Hunt."

A hand is in her hair — her own, and she tugs at it before letting go and not caring that hair has fallen slightly over the left side of her face. "The reason. . . I've been the way I am and why _you_ of all people have noticed is because — is because, this summer. My mother, she passed away — well no, she was _murdered_ , and obviously I'm not taking it well."

_You wanna keep going, love? I want you to._

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says, voice dripping with 'sympathy,' for something he already knew. "How —"

"Yes, well I just didn't want you to think I'm actually all those things you say."

He can tell she's telling the truth. The first and second layer of this girl wouldn't want people to think that of her. But the first wouldn't want her friends to know so she can keep her lovely reputation, and the second because she knows it's true, and that she wouldn't be able to find comfort in her mask anymore.

"Prim, depressed, bored, a fake. I'm just dealing with this." She's rambling. "If you don't believe me you can ask Amber, or Harry or even Ron."

Amusing. "You don't think I trust you?" He's taking steps across the hallway, loving the track they're on.

She laughs, short and quiet, turns her head to the side and he fits more steps towards her in. Barely noticeable. "I know you don't."

_Would be embarrassing if you thought otherwise._

"Good."

"I really am sorry, this — everything about me this year isn't me, not at all. If we had been partnered in defence last year I wouldn't be acting like this, I promise. I'm sorry. I'll work on it or —"

And he has her there now, like one of the first times they spoke. Arms at either side of her head, closing her in; breath mingling; faces close, but she has to look up at him; her hands clutched to her chest; soft, blue eyes never leaving her.

This time though, he finds himself appreciating the sight more.

Flushed cheeks, almost innocent looking. Lips. . . perfectly pink. Eyes an interesting shade of something between brown and green. Hazel, he thi—

_No. Fuck off._

"Sorry to interrupt this period of self pity, but you should know that I don't care. Don't give a single fuck, Elara."

Something shifts in her throat. It's her breath.

"Just stop pretending you're perfect when you're not. Your mother's dead, you're upset, why are you hiding it? Are you not allowed to be upset? Is that against the rules? You don't _need_ to do that, your friends will understand your upset and won't expect you to hold yourself to such high standards if they're good to you already."

His laugh brushes hair from her face, glides it back over her shoulder. "Do you know what it is with you? You're being dramatic. Hell, I'd even bet you were there when it happened and now you're blaming yourself for it."

It's quiet, but it's audible because she has the confidence to look up and meet his eyes instead of finding distraction in the way her shoes look. "I _was_ there."

"And I'm right, so stop."

Suddenly, so suddenly he doesn't even think about the action — his right hand is at the base of her throat, holding on _just in_ _case_. He feels her pulse flutter and sees her eyes double in size.

It's satisfying as _shit._

"I don't _care_ how you feel, probably the last person in this bloody school who does." The adrenaline of having her there starts something up in him. His head is tilted down at hers, noses now brushing, and his teeth are ever so slightly gritted. Definitely intimidating.

"But if I'm around you and you're trying to hide it, I'll go _fucking_ mad. Just be straight-up and honest with yourself, and me. If you wanna slap me, slap me, go for it. You wanna put me back in my place when I overstep? Complain when I don't use the right quill or if I use too much ink. _I don't fucking care, do it,_ just don't be fake."

A lump in her throat forms and dissolves under his palm. "I — I. . . sure, yes."

_Submissive little fuck._

"But you can't force me to act like that around my friends. I don't care what you say or if you threaten me, or pin me to a wall like you are right now. . . I'm not, I won't."

Hair falls onto his brow bone with his next short-lived laugh. "You were at this wall long before I was here, love. And to be quite frank? I don't care what your friends know, and I don't feel like blackmailing anyone anytime soon."

"Good."

Silence caressed their surroundings so fucking quick. Like the worst summer breeze possible, and she just had to break too far in by letting her mouth run.

"I, erm, it's just because I have this thing where I don't like to talk to people about what I feel, because then I feel like a burden and I _hate_ feeling like that and then I absolutely _hate_ it when people start acting strange around me because they're afraid I'm gonna break and—"

"Shut up." His hand tightens, he probably didn't even need to talk. "I get the point. No need to suffocate yourself with your own words."

Her brow raised, and not in that aristocratic way, but in a way that suggested she knew something he didn't.

"If I'm going to be suffocated by anything tonight it'll be this hand around my throat."

His own pulse stutters, but he grips it again. "Would you like that?"

"Just because I'm not screaming or struggling doesn't mean I like it."

He removes it in an instant, coughing awkwardly. He's a flirt, but not one like McLaggen.

"Right, anything else then or are you going to spring a story on me about your dog that died when you were a kid?"

She frowns. "I've never had a dog before."

Then he sighs. "It was just an example of asking whether you're going to pounce on me with more problems from your past."

"I'm not."

He smiles one last time, goes to turn on that heel again. . . "Wonderful. If you'll excuse me—"

"Ten points from Slytherin."

It was his turn to frown, but comedy filled it. "I thought you weren't doing that."

Her left shoulder raised, and she held it there for a moment as she said arbitrarily, "Change of heart I guess."


	8. Chapter 8

**_OCTOBER 3RD 1996_ **   
  


There was something puzzling in his gait, enough to send Elara's hand to her pocketed wand just in case. It was like something was weighing him down on one side and his muscles were struggling to compensate for his lack of balance.

She caught him twice looking over his shoulder as he glided through the halls, to validate that he was alone, but he was completely unaware of her curious eye following him.

He then paused, and as he did, Elara looked around the space. It took three seconds for her to realise they were on the seventh floor, in its desolate and dim-lit state.

Draco was standing still as stone, wand drawn, apple in other hand, facing a tall wall cloaked in an ancient tapestry.

A tapping noise behind her made Elara's head turn over her shoulder. It almost sounded like shoes echoing off of the walls. She watched for seven seconds, eyes searching the darkness behind her which seemed to be occupied by nothingness.

When she looked back to Draco, he was gone.

That night she had another one of those dreams.

There was a room, filled to the brim with clutter ranging from rolled up rugs to mahogany tables and chipped broomsticks, all completely coated with dust. Standing tall among everything was what her focus was drawn to.

A cabinet.

Pointed at the top, sharp sides, intricate patterns lining the edges. Completely unique.

The only thing the dream showed was the wooden door of it opening slowly, almost as if the dream had been slowed down for added effect. Once it had opened, Elara was moving forwards, and nothing but death filled her senses.

It rang in her ears like a probing whistle. Tasted rotten on her tongue. Looked pitch-black and venomous to her bright eyes. Felt dangerous under the pads of her fingertips as she ran her hand over the cabinet.

There was also a whisper. She wasn't quite sure whether it was in her head or from someone behind her, leaning down by her ear.

_"Harmonia Nectere Passus."_

She woke at around three in the morning drenched in a cold sweat.

For several days later, her and Theo's conversation drifted to the back of her mind, and she was instead dead set on finding out what those three words meant. . . or did.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 9TH 1996_ **   
  


A deep sense of serenity overcame her as she stared in rapture at the length of blue that lay before her. Rays of light dancing delicately across the water, darting down from the afternoon sun that both made her have to narrow her eyes to see and made the view all the more breathtaking.

The trees around them were laughing once more, dressed in their colourful clothes, the gold and scarlet of the autumn days. They contrast beautifully against the earthy hues of the branches, trunks and the dirt sitting beneath the grass.

It was raining yesterday, so the scent of petrichor surrounded them..

"How are you enjoying this?" came Amber's judgemental tone.

Elara moved to leaning on her elbows and cast a side glance at the Gryffindor. Her arms were holding herself, teeth were smashing against each other in a chatter. Elara raised a brow. "Enjoying what? Your tedious company? Or your constant complaints?" Amber shot an irritated look.

"I'm not enjoying it, actually. You should probably leave."

With a straight face and plain voice, Amber said, "Hilarious." She motioned around them and grimaced. "I meant sitting out here without shivering your tits off. I'm struggling with my life."

With a roll of her hazel eyes, Elara flopped back down onto the crimson-red picnic blanket and closed her eyes, arms draped lazily over her stomach. She sighed, enjoying what was once a little bit of peace.

"It honestly sounds like a you problem to me, Bear."

Amber gasped, and smacked the girl's side with the paper in her hands. "What have I said about calling me 'Bear'?"

She couldn't see Amber's face, but Elara imagined it to be red, and that made a slight smile tease the corners of her lips. "You said that I shouldn't."

"Don't then," she snapped.

"Fine, I won't."

"Fine."

Elara heard the crisp sound of Amber flicking through the pages of the Daily Prophet. That, mixed in with birds chirping non-stop above, moved her back to that slight period of tranquillity.

After around five minutes of comfortable silence between the two, Amber sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth and sighed, interesting Elara.

"What is it?" she asked, sitting up and squinting her eyes at the sunlight, too intense.

The girl shook her head, placing it at her right side, furthest away from the other. "Nothing."

_Do you not understand that_ _that_ _makes me want to know more? Idiot._

Elara moved onto her knees, facing her friend. "Doesn't sound like nothing when you sigh like that. . . You can either tell me now or I'll go find —"

"Fine."

A long pause.

Amber stared out at the lake; Elara watched as she did so. She was growing more and more irritated and impatient with her, because it wasn't like Amber to be odd, she's probably the most blunt and honest person in the girl's life.

"Go on then. . ." she pushed.

She sighed, but it wasn't delicate, it was rooted from stress. "It's not even important 'Lara just forget —"

"Well this" — she motioned her hand down the length of Amber sprawled out on the blanket — "is making me think it is important. So spill now. I'll only find out from someone else later."

Accepting defeat, Amber twisted around and brought the paper to Elara, she spent five seconds flipping to the right page and passing it over to her, and watched as her eyes raked over the spread for a moment.

"Muggleborns are going missing all over Britain," the Gryffindor said, unsure whether or not she had gotten to that part.

She tried not to let that sliver of panic settle. "I thought the Auror's office had it under control?" she whispered.

Amber had a sympathetic look coating her face when she looked up. Because unlike her, Elara was a Half-Blood because her mother was a Pureblood, and her father is a Muggleborn. Amber is a Half-Blood from both of her parents being neither Pure or Muggleborn.

She shook her head and scooted closer, pointing to a certain paragraph under a moving picture of a missing witch — _Nancy Artois, age eighteen_. "Not what it says here. Apparently the numbers are doubling by the minute."

Elara's first instinct was to ask; "Have any gone missing in Devon?" even though she could have read the article for herself instead of letting someone think she was frightened — which she most definitely was.

Amber's brows furrowed. "Has your dad not written?"

Her shoulder raised slightly. "Oh, he has but. . . just making sure, you know?"

Her hand came to Elara's shoulder, rubbing it slightly and smiling tight. "I get it. . . and no, none in Devon as of yet." _As of yet._ "I think they're starting up north first. Making their way down, or something. Their _battle plan_ of sorts," Amber laughed.

Elara tossed the paper onto the grass, watching as pages separated and drifted onto the surface of the glimmering lake, dissolving.

"I'll never get it. The whole blood superiority thing."

"It _is_ quite ridiculous."

"What does it mean for all us half-bloods though?" The question surprised herself. Elara had asked herself the question over one million times since Cedric Diggory's unfortunate death, but never someone else. "What happens to us? The Muggleborns will be killed or enslaved, the Purebloods will be high in _his_ ranks or they'll be the only ones accepted into society. What are we? I mean we've always been considered 'less' but not vermin."

Amber looked uncomfortable. She didn't mean for the conversation to turn this way but some things needed to be asked, questioned, analysed.

"I don't know why you're talking like he'll win."

"We have to consider it." She shot her a look. Nobody liked talking about the war, avoided it if they could, hence the Ministry's denial last year.

"If we walk into this war blind then nobody will know what to do if _he_ wins. Nobody will have made time to come up with an out."

"An 'out'?" Amber asked confused.

"Yes," she replied lightly. "Like. . . escaping the country."

"So you're saying if you-know-who wins you're leaving the country?"

"Of course not," she brushed it off with a breath of a laugh. "You know me, I'd try and help in any way I can."

"Ah yes, our Elara. Ever-so-generous," Amber said in a light tune.

_More like selfish. I'd do it so dad would be okay, so he doesn't have anything to fear anything anymore. So he can finally find some peace._

"Yes, generous. But what I was saying is that people need to think about everything, need to think logistically. Hope and love _can't_ solve everything. One day it will be both sides against the other on a battlefield; they'll be throwing the worst curses and spells our way _including_ the unforgivables. . . and what will we have? _Patronuses_."

She hummed in response. "Fair point."

Elara continued, "So if we lose, I'm sending dad out of the country, into a safe house far away from all of this. I've had it all planned out since before the summer."

_Trust Amber Brianna Johnson to take that seriously. . ._

"Could I go? Me and your dad. . . all alone." She groaned, "That man—"

Elara could have sworn bile rose at the back of her throat."Ew! Stop. Amber, that's my father." Her hand was covering Amber's mouth, but she was fighting harder to pry it away with her stupid Chaser muscles.

"So?" She giggled. "You had to get your looks from _somewhere_."

Elara actually liked to think she got her best genes from her mother. The woman was always so elegantly beautiful, even as time went on and ever-so-light wrinkles started to form and her skin started to roughen.

She was so easily pictured in her mind.

Flawless, glowing skin from visiting all sorts of exotic countries on Auror missions; soft grey eyes — how Elara wished she had those instead of her father's hazel ones — decorated with thick lashes; thin, but not too thin, eyebrows; fluffy blonde hair. . . pink cheeks that deepened as she sipped her white wine on a Friday afternoon.

This wasn't to say she hated what her father blessed her with, just, her mother was a timeless beauty, and her father was handsome, but rugged and tough-looking.

Elara was soon laughing along with Amber, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all, not just the comment about — well, you know what.

The fact that her teenage years were being ruined by a Dark wizard was comedic in a way. Some product of karma for being a dirty fake all these years, no doubt.

After their giggles died down, their breaths slowed and their shoulders stopped bobbing, Amber pointed out that the Hogsmeade weekend was coming up, as if Elara was completely oblivious to everything around her.

"Very well spotted. It's only what everyone talks about around this time every year," said Elara, resolutely unimpressed.

"Do you wanna go with me?" asked Amber."I was going to go with Demelza and Alicia but in all honesty. . . I don't like them that much and they're boring."

A cold chill ran down the length of Elara's spine, under her coat, and she decided that she too, was not enjoying being out in the October air any longer. She stood, and pulled Amber up from the floor with her.

"Do they know you're no longer tagging along?" her brow arched.

They were dusting themselves off and folding the blankets back up when Amber looked off to the side briefly and sighed.

"They will when I don't show. So will you go with me?"

"I don't know. . ."

"Please?"

Elara huffed. "I have a charms quiz —"

"I know, I have the same one."

Her face creased and her brows tensed, but it melted into her skin quickly as she truly had no worthy excuse for missing out on the first Hogsmeade weekend.

"Okay," she replied quietly. "I'll come with you. . . but only if we can go to Honeydukes."

Amber grinned like a child.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 10TH 1996_ **   
  


Breakfast was physically painful for two reasons.

One, Draco Malfoy was pissing her off.

Why? She didn't know, he just was, and it was even more infuriating that she couldn't put her finger on it.

Part of it was the way he sat at the Slytherin table. Shoulders squared, posture perfect, napkin dabbing at the corners of his lips every five seconds. He was picking at what looked like overcooked scrambled eggs and not lifting his head from a spot over Blaise Zabini's shoulder, who sat opposite him.

It was making Elara's blood boil.

She tried to place this newly-found irritation on the fact that he simply disappeared from sight that night after her run in with April and Theo, but something inside her told Elara that it ran deeper.

_Way deeper._

It was a gut instinct.

She had searched the surrounding hallways and passages that night but he was nowhere to be seen. It was like he had apparated. But, of course he couldn't, nobody could apparate anywhere on the Hogwarts grounds.

And then there was that dream she had afterwards.

That voice muttering those unfamiliar words. . .

It was difficult to tell, she hadn't many conversations with the boy over her time at Hogwarts unless he was throwing a quick insult at her, but it sounded like his, only much huskier and laced with something.

Desperation, evil, or regret is what she had it narrowed down to.

Oddly specific, yes. But Elara's always been observant, had to be.

She rolled her eyes to herself as she stabbed more strawberries onto her fork. Just thinking about the whole situation was making a throbbing pain appear in each of her temples, not to mention she still hadn't figured out what the spell was.

_Harmonia Nectere Passus. . ._

The second thing that was pissing her off that _fine_ morning as she picked around at her assortment of fruits, was Amber and Miles Bletchley, who were practically killing and undressing each other with their eyes all at the same time.

Save to say that those two had a lot of sexual tension between them.

Having enough already, Elara huffed dramatically and said, "I seriously don't understand this thing between you and Bletchley. It's really starting to hurt my head, Amber. Just shag it out!"

The Gryffindor lifted her head from her hand and raised a dark brow at the girl, looking as if Elara had just grown antlers. She raised her hand to her head to make sure she hadn't.

"Did _you_ " — she pointed to Elara — "just tell _me_ ," — then to herself — "to 'shag it out'?"

"I — I guess so. . .?" she replied, nervous and slightly annoyed with herself for forgetting Elara would never say a word like 'shag.'

Amber waved a hand through the air, then turned her torso so she was facing Elara. "I'm not going to 'shag it out' because he's infuriating and I'm _way_ too good for him, but I will burden you with my problems if that's okay?"

Elara raised her shoulder and popped a dark grape into her mouth. "Of course you may, but It's not exactly like I have a choice in the matter, is it?"

"Never."

"So," Elara swallowed her mouthful. "What's the all the sex glares about?"

"They are _not_ sex glares," Amber said firmly, gripping her knife a little too much. "And I don't know, there's really nothing to tell you other than the fact that he's the biggest _arse_ going."

Elara removed the knife from the girl's palm, setting it down on her own plate. "Are you going to tell me why?" she asked.

Amber was shaking her head, raven curls were falling all around her face and hiding a majority of it. "I'm not telling you. Nope. . . never."

Her mind was blank.

"Wha — why? You _just_ said you're going to burden me with your problems, and this time I actually would like to know about this." Elara motioned her hand between the Gryffindor and in the direction of where the hard-looking Slytherin was sat with Cassius Warrington.

"I'm not telling you," the girl repeated, shoving half a slice of toast into her mouth. "You'll judge me," she mumbled through her food.

"Amber." Elara tilted her head, a genuinely caring look on her face.

_It couldn't be that bad. Could it?_

"Elara." Amber had her brows raised higher at her..

_Worst case scenario: he's hurt her. But still, no, Amber's strong, knows more than anyone how to take care of herself. And, even if she couldn't, she'd definitely tell someone._

"Hunt."

_Theo?_

"Nott?"

He was standing there, not wearing robes or his jumper like he usually did. The sleeves of his perfectly white school shirt were rolled up to his elbows, a few strands of his dark messy hair were falling onto his brow bone, and his lips were pulled into that signature Slytherin smirk.

It hurt her that she was finding him attractive in that moment, because it felt _wrong_.

She hadn't seen him in a week, it almost felt as if he were avoiding her, not that she was seeking him out.

Suddenly her heart was pounding in her chest as she remembered their last conversation. It was hard not to, but as of late her mind had been a little more focused on that bloody cabinet, those words and Malfoy.

_"Just stop pretending you're perfect when you're not."_

_Having her against that wall._

_"But if I'm around you and you're trying to hide it, I'll go fucking mad."_

_Those soft blue eyes staring down coldly at her._

_"Would you like that?"_

_His ha_ _n_ _d around her throat. . ._

Elara shivered.

He had one hand resting on the table behind Amber, leaning onto it slightly, his other hand was in his pocket. "Yes, it's me," he flashed his teeth. "Good to know you don't need specs, Hunt."

Amber's eyes were flitting between them, wide and frozen to stay that way, bulging out of her head almost.

Ignoring her friend's gaze, knowing very well that later she would be grilled about the conversation no matter what road it took, she straightened out her posture and smiled back at the boy.

"Anything you need, Nott?"

He nodded, took his arm off of the table and sat on the other side of Amber. One leg was on either side of the bench and his left elbow was resting on the table, rings tapping against the dark and aged wood.

"You need to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow, Hunt," he said bluntly.

Amber looked as if someone had gifted her a Firebolt, and obviously the first thing to come out of Elara's mouth was,

"Sorry, but. . . I'm already going with Amber, erm, maybe next time?" she cringed internally.

Theo jolted back as if someone had hit him with a brutal curse. His face crumpled but soon he was laughing, adding onto Elara's sudden embarrassment and confusion.

"You didn't think I meant as a date did you?" He was pressing a fist to his mouth. "Merlin! You're actually quite funny. Who knew?" He settled down quickly as Elara stared wide eyed at him.

Of course she didn't think he meant a date, Theo Nott would never be interested in her even if she was the last woman in the wizarding world. Not only is it clear, but Elara feels the same way. 

What else was she to say, though? _'No thank you. . . kindly piss of.'_

"Perhaps I should have been a bit clearer; you're smart but obviously lack common sense. I — uh, could you —"

Theo was cut off by Amber's head of hair getting in the way. He tapped her shoulder lightly and motioned for her to lean back, which she was happy to do. So much so she removed herself from between them and sat on the other side of Elara.

"Ah! Thank you Angelina," Theo quipped.

That was sure to piss her off.

Elara looked over her shoulder. Amber wasn't greatly pissed off, but she wasn't focusing all her attention on their conversation like she was a second ago either.

She looked back at Theo and raised a brow in question of his smirk. "Why do I _need_ to go to Hogsmeade with you tomorrow then, Nott?"

"Very glad you asked," he snatched a grape from Elara's assortment and placed it between his teeth, letting her watch as he crushed it. "I've missed out on too much of this project of ours already —"

Elara cut him off. " _You_ said you didn't want to do it."

He laughed again. Something had to really be amusing him on the inside, something that happened before this, because if anything, this conversation was completely awkward, _not_ comedic.

"Actually I said 'fuck this project,' which I believe _you_ " — he tapped her nose lightly then reached down to her plate and took another grape — "took too seriously and gave me this little mini-lecture on how you'll do it and I don't have to worry my — and I quote, ' _pretty little head'_ about any of it."

It took her a moment to latch on to what he had said.

When Theo muttered those words under his breath, Elara thought he had wanted nothing to do with her or their Dementors assignment. Wanted nothing more than to do as he pleases and leave it all for her to do. She simply saved herself what she thought was going to be embarrassment.

"Oh. . . right," she nodded along.

"So you see, I'm in dire need of catching up with this little thing. So tomorrow, you and I are going to take a walk down to the three broomsticks, grab a butterbeer and do our work there."

_What a waste of a Hogsmeade weekend that she could spend with her friends and not a no doubt soon-to-be Death Eater._

"Can't we just do it Sunday?" Elara asked, trying her hardest not to seem aggravated with him, despite everything he had said about it.

He shrugged and looked off to the side and said, "Busy."

Theo went to reach for another slice of fruit but she pushed her plate off towards Amber. "Well can't we just stay in the library then? If it's a question of freezing my arse off or not, I chose not."

His lips lifted at one side and he gave her a look that raked the length of her. "Butterbeer will soothe your. . . crazy little hormones and keep _you_ from killing _me_ , so I vote for freezing our arses off."

_Breakfast was now painful for three reasons instead of two._

_The third? Theodore_ what's-his-middle-name _Nott was trying to get her to go to Hogsmeade with him tomorrow. Just them, sipping butterbeer and working on their project at a table for two._ Two.

She didn't want to agree because part of her was scared. And the other part of her. . . was entirely nervous.

Nervous to be in close proximity with him again. Nervous to be alone with him. Nervous as to what he would say about their last conversation and what happened in that deserted hallway with his hand wrapped around her throat, cold rings pressing hard—

"Why are you so suddenly so interested in the project?" she shot at him, her tone accidentally rising. "I said _I'd_ do it. You can just copy me when you're done."

Theo shook a finger at her. "Well you see Hunt, by simply copying your work, I'm not actually learning anything. And in all honesty I'd rather have my Defence NEWT when I leave here."

 _As if it would matter,_ she wanted to scoff in his face. _The boy probably owns half of France._ If she could remember rightly, the Nott's were French. . .

Elara was biting the inside of her cheek when she choked out, "Fine. . . but you're buying the butterbeer."

He began to stand from the seat he briefly occupied at the Hufflepuff table. "Of course I am," he said with one last smile.

 _Something has got him in_ quite _the chipper mood._

"I'm a gentleman after all, Elara."

He then left.

And _fuck_.

Amber was about to become her newest headache.


	9. Chapter 9

**_OCTOBER 11TH 1996_ **   
  


According to Amber Johnson — blue denims, a white polo layered with a light grey knit sweater, a puffer coat, and a small, dainty necklace is _not_ appropriate for a 'study date' with Theo Nott.

 _Absolutely atrocious,_ actually, as she had said while chasing Elara around the Hufflepuff common room with a different change of clothes resting in her palms. She didn't know what exactly the items — or more horrifyingly, _item_ — of clothing were, only that they did not belong to Elara, and they were a deep shade of red.

Carmine, that was what they called it in that one summer art class she attended. But that's irrelevant.

It was almost comedic as Amber paled completely when she came to the realisation that Elara wasn't even going to apply any makeup. Nothing to lengthen her lashes, nothing to brighten the deep hollows under her eyes. Nothing at all. And then her pale deepened into a foggy emerald shade when Elara pulled her messy morning hair into a rough bun on the top of her head, baby hair flying everywhere.

She had tried to explain to her that it was not a date. Not even a 'study date,' as Amber kept calling it. Giving it that name implied they were happy to be in each other's company, that _she_ was happy to be in his company.

_The boy couldn't even understand that Dementors was the more practical option. How was she supposed to be satisfied with that? Let alone happy. Not to mention all of the other more alarming factors._

Sliding into those clothes Amber had picked out and decorating her face just for him would also make Theo think she cared; make it look like she was trying to impress him; like she was excited to spend the next few hours bickering with him.

And she didn't care; didn't want to impress him; wasn't excited to bicker with him. Not at all.

Elara would dress and look this way with anyone while working on a project in a pub in Hogsmeade. Hermione, Susan, Harry, Ron, Zach, Padma. _Anyone_.

Even a mysterious, handsome, intimidating, fuck-boy Slytherin with his non existent manners, understanding for privacy and just generally minding his own _fucking_ business.

 _'Do you ever get tired of being so. . . prim?'_ Piss off. _'You look ready to throw yourself off a cliff without a second thought.'_

She was getting sick of replaying those words in her head. Those questions that followed those conversations. The ones that wanted to scream out to her and make themselves known. She was _so_ tired of thinking about everything he said to her. Elara just wanted to scream at him, ask as many questions as he was. But no, if she did, he'd hex, curse, or strangle her.

About this 'study session,' as she would much rather call it. . . Elara couldn't deny it though that she was nervous.

Everything about him made her feel that way, which was why she was so quick to unfold in front of him as he had her against that stone wall again. Why she had let her mouth involuntarily run all over the place. Spilling unnecessary information.

His house made her nervous. . . She wasn't the type to discriminate against which one an eleven year old was sorted into, but you could not deny that a majority of dark wizards and Death Eaters sprouted from Slytherin house.

His friends, too.

Draco, who's father is rotting in Azkaban right this second for everything that happened at the Ministry. Draco, who has, and still does bully Harry, Ron, Hermione and other Muggleborns, Half-Bloods and blood traitors ever since they arrived at Hogwarts. And Draco, who could have the Dark Mark inked into the skin of his forearm right now, at age _sixteen_.

Then Blaise, who's mother has had more husbands than Elara can count, and every single one has mysteriously 'died' less than six months after the wedding ceremony.

In all honesty, Elara probably knew the lease about Blaise Zabini. Out of their own trio — if you don't count Pansy — he's the one who tends to fly under the radar, seeming to be a perfectly average student.

And Pansy. . . Elara would not like to think about her right now for obvious past reasons.

His father's status and reputation surrounding _you-know-_ who spoke for itself.

Considering Amber had made Elara spill every single smidge and crumb about her tense relationship with Theo last night behind the drawn drapes of her bed, it was odd that she wasn't yelling at her to be cautious like she usually would; yelling at her to make sure her wand is at her side at all times.

_Though. . . come to think of it she has always liked the colour green, maybe that's what is blinding her. Or the fact that he's mysterious and handsome._

Elara's platform boots clicked against the flagstone as she made her approach for him in the middle of the clock-tower courtyard. She pushed away the thoughts that were running away with her and sending her into a loophole of unwanted, imaginary scenarios. 

He was leaning against the stone disinterestedly, looking out at the bridge that led down to Hagrid's Hut and Care of Magical Creatures. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored black trousers, his stance lazy.

He must have heard her, of course he did. They were the only ones out there and the clicks of her shoes echoed off every cobbled wall and archway — not to mention the large fountain that stood in the middle of the space, water trickling through the crevices peacefully.

As Theo turned, Elara noticed the rest of his attire. All black, of course. He wore a thick, turtleneck sweater underneath an expensive-looking covert coat, paired with some pointed dress shoes that looked like ones you should only wear to a wedding. Under the blazing sun, his snake and silver rings flashed and shone making them more noticeable to the eye.

Every part of him was pristine and presentable, as he always was being the rich, spoilt, Pureblood wizard that he was. All except, however, his hair which stayed in its usual curled and messy state.

She liked it that way, though. She couldn't imagine what he'd look like if he gelled his hair like Draco does.

Theo swept her a curious look as she approached and stood still in front of him.

"Ready?" she asked after a few awkward moments of simply taking the other one in.

"If I wasn't. . . do you really believe I'd have been standing here freezing my arse off while waiting for you?"

He turned on his heel and began walking, looking over his shoulder to make sure she followed, which she did. Trudging her little legs through the snow that rested upon the ground and every available surface. Covering the rich, deep wood in a perfect white blanket.

"How am I to know?" Elara said in a light tone. "You might have forgotten something and needed to head back. Maybe you didn't want me to think I was being ditched so you made sure I saw you first."

She could practically feel him smirking when he said, "Awfully specific, Hunt."

"What can I say?" Elara shrugged, and didn't even think to consider that he couldn't see the action, not that it really mattered. "I like to think about every possibility."

"That right?" He looked over his shoulder, his soft blue eyes popping out above all that black clothing and the pink tinge of his cheeks from the wind. "Does this mean you were awake _all_ last night thinking about some ulterior motive I have?"

"No," she half-scoffed, half-laughed. "This" — she motioned between them — "is just two people who have been forced to work together on a project for an important class, and because one of them hasn't done anything as of yet we're forced to waste a perfectly good Hogsmeade day working on it so that _he_ can catch up."

Theo said nothing for a few seconds that felt oddly prolonged, but then he looked back over his shoulder with a plain look on his face. "You sound a little bitter about this," he said simply.

 _Oh really?_ "Wonder why."

Elara was too busy watching her shoes kick away a path through the milky snow that she hadn't realised he had paused for her to catch up. Now, he was walking at her side. She lifted her head when she saw his shoes planted in the snow next to hers.

"It's not like I asked for us to be paired together, you know."

"Well obviously, we barely spoke before any of this. I _know_ you'd much rather be paired with Draco or one of his bodyguards."

He chuckled. "Manners, Hunt. Those 'bodyguards' have names."

"Well I don't know them so what else am I supposed to say?" She huffed and ran through possibilities and replacement names for the plump boys. Oh! _Oh,_ that's perfect. "Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

Of course he wouldn't get it though. She had to remember that not all Purebloods like Ron and Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom are aware of some Muggle culture. Even if it is as famous as Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. 

"What's a Tweedledee?" His brows curved at her, and she had to suppress a smile as she saw miniature snowflakes get caught in them.

"Muggle reference."

"Not Shakespeare is it?" He groaned, tilting his head back obnoxiously. "I cannot seem to understand why everyone loves his work so much. Everything is so predictable."

Elara gasped. "Predictable?" She nearly choked on her words. Never, had she met someone who disliked Shakespeare's work. "You're mad."

"So you don't agree?" his tone was annoyingly oblivious.

_Is this boy deaf?_

"Of course not!" If the fact that they needed to get this project over and done with she would have left because of his ridiculousness. "How in the world do you predict that Juliet ends up in a drugged coma and her true love somehow gets it that she's dead so he _poisons_ himself to be with her in the afterlife and when she wakes up to find him dead, stabs herself to do what he did? And may I add that they barely knew each other," she gesticulated passionately.

"It's a tragedy. They always end up dead."

"But you don't know _why_."

"You know. . ." She saw him smile down at the snow. "It's amusing the way that that's what's interesting you in this conversation. How I think his works are predictable, that is. Because don't you think it's more curious that a Pureblood wizard like me reads Muggle plays?"

Oh, well. . . he did have a point, that was a _little_ more interesting. But, with everything his father stands for, how did he even get to reading them? She would let it sit in the back of her head. It wasn't that important, and he didn't need her thinking she was curious.

"I'm not actually bothered with what you spend your free time doing," she lied.

A look of what could have passed as disappointment brushed across Theo's features. "Hm, fair enough," he mumbled.

They continued down the white path in silence mostly. The only sound being the crunching and squashing of the snow beneath their soles and the chatter of nearby third years squirming with excitement.

Breath pale against the numbing air, Elara blinked thoughtfully as the frost patiently kissed her face, and the sharp wind spent extra time painting her nose a quartz pink colour. She adored the snow, more so when it was falling, like right now.

But this silence between them was deafening. Their little arguments about pointless things were better than this.

She said the first thing that came to mind, not even sure if it would get a conversion running.

"Do you think it'll be busy?"

Theo's eyelashes batted against the curves of his eyes as he blinked slowly at her and looked up from his shoes. He looked as if he had been deep in thought. "Hm?" he hummed from his throat.

"The Three Broomsticks," she repeated, eyes flitting to the nearby village. "Do you think it'll be busy inside?"

"What does it matter?" his shoulders raised briefly. "We'll still be able to get a table."

"It's not that, I — " sweet Jesus this is embarrassing. "I'm not the biggest fan of crowded spaces."

He chuckled, "Poor you." It was deep and husky and she could tell the cold weather may have been affecting his chest slightly. And she couldn't help but think that he should have wrapped up more.

 _Didn't he call himself a gentleman not twenty-four hours ago?_ "Rude git," Elara huffed, wrapping her arms around herself. _Hm,_ she too may have underestimated the temperature today.

"Can we at least sit at a table in the back or something?" she asked, turning her head to him. They had now entered the village and began worming their way through the large swarm of students and wizards that already lived there.

His body had briefly pushed against hers as they were forced closer when they strolled through a half-parted crowd. He took that moment to murmur into her ear, "Sure, whatever."

And she took that moment to smile briefly. They were quite close and he was sure to not notice. "Thanks, Th—"

Elara didn't get the time to finish that sentence as a body at her right forced her to fall into Theo and continue to stumble forwards. She never hit the snow pillow beneath her though, as one hand had clasped around her left wrist, and the other holding firmly onto her right elbow, both warm from sitting in the depths of black pocket.

"Watch where you're walking dipshit," she heard Theo sneer at someone, possibly the one causing this clumsy action. There were a few more mumbled and muffled words and she was being dragged along.

"And you. . ." Theo released her as people faded around them. She was back on her two feet, staring up at Theo's irritated eyes. "You can be careful too. Don't wanna break that neck of yours now."

Elara couldn't help but laugh at that.

Why?

You can figure that out. It's quite obvious.

—

"Good morning," Madam Rosmerta greeted the two as they seated themselves down at one of the back tables in the Three Broomsticks. It wasn't as busy as Elara had thought, but a majority of the tables were occupied by the older half of students at Hogwarts and already intoxicated wizards and witches.

Elara was about to politely and quickly — _so that this could be over and done with sooner rather than later_ — return the words but she was cut off by a pleasantly sounding gasp escaping the woman's mouth.

"Oh! Elara it's you. Well I have to say it's so good to see you, dear," she smiled. "How have you been? How's your father?!

For quick context; Madam Rosmerta and her father went to Hogwarts together, they were both in Hufflepuff so they had been quite good friends for a while up until they left school. The most Elara knows is that, and that she would always ask this whenever she entered her pub.

She — Elara, that is — made the wrong move and _very_ briefly glanced over and stared into Theo's eyes. She was determined not to look away first, but his brow was raised as if he was challenging her. _Go on, lie,_ she could imagine him whispering in her ear. _It's okay, just this once._

 _Pft, I don't need your permission,_ she wanted to bite back at him.

"Oh. . . erm, yes we're both doing our best, thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

She would have said it to anyone. She would have never told the truth, except maybe to Amber had she learned how to spot a lie and was curious enough. Of course though, she cared and asked regularly how she was doing, but other than Elara's disconnect from everything, Amber would never realise it ran deeper.

The point is, Theo knew exactly what she was hiding from the woman who was being nothing but sweet and genuine. Was probably the only person to know most of the truth behind her actions and feelings. It wasn't even a question. But yet she could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face as she gave Madam Rosmerta such a short reply. Like he was still wondering if maybe, _just maybe._

He wanted her to break, that was obvious. But it hadn't crossed her mind until then.

He didn't want her to be fake in front of him, didn't want her to pour words she didn't mean off of her tongue and let them spread like wildfire. He did say he didn't care about her friends, what they thought and saw, but maybe he did. He _had_ pushed her a lot, after all. Maybe he just needed to give her time to get used to being that way around him first, before he began pushing her to the edges. Tearing at her, ruining everything she created, shredding, ripping, peeling. Then displaying her to everyone as if he were a cheeky first year who was holding up his own crumpled up detention slip, showing off to his friends.

It was completely illogical that he thought she would in that moment. In front of the Three Broomsticks' Landlady of all people. Like she would know any different, be able to tell that _that_ was the real her.

The corners Rosmerta's crimson-painted lips lifted higher, creasing the skin circling her bright blue eyes. "Good, good," she nodded, but then her head moved and her brows knotted. She looked back to Elara. "Who's this chap?"

Elara glanced over to him, and he was making it perfectly clear that he was not going to make a move to introduce himself or even acknowledge her.

It was in the way he sat, body turned away, legs parted, shoulders slouching. The way his eyes stared down at his studded silver rings and twisted them around the bases of his fingers. In the way his shoes tapped on the hardwood flooring.

Elara smiled up at the woman. A fake smile, not that she'd know. "This is Theo, we're working on a project together for Defence," she said vaguely.

Rosmerta didn't bother to hide the fact that what Elara said didn't interest her one bit, but, she did try to hide the obviousness of her dislike for him. Didn't hide how her face had scrunched up and she took a short step backwards.

It was odd, he was simply a school boy who she did not know the name of.

Did not know the name of. . . Elara hadn't said his last. _Nott_. If she had, Rosmerta would have made the connection quicker than Harry Potter could catch a snitch. The connection of who his father was. Then, her crumpled face would have made sense. . .

"Yes, yes. So, Butterbeers?" she rushed out.

Elara gave her a taciturn smile. "Sure, yes please. Two, thank you."

And then the woman's heeled boots were clicking, _click clack click clack,_ fading quickly into the background behind the overbearing sounds of chuckling of men, giggling of school girls and Elara's thoughts.

_Why had she pulled that face at him?_

_Perhaps she just didn't like Slytherins. It wasn't uncommon, but most were discreet about it._

A minute or so passed as the two did nothing but wait for their beverages. Elara was picking at her cuticles awkwardly and glancing around the Pub. Theo was leaning back in his chair, legs spread, one hand tapping his ring on the surface of the table and the other resting on his thigh.

Then he spoke. "Your manners are disgusting, Hunt."

_I — What?_

"I'm just being polite."

"You barely know her though."

"What do I get out of being rude to her, though?"

Theo said nothing more. He did however, click his tongue against the roof of his mouth subtly, traced it along the inside of his cheek, _oh so slowly,_ and then sighed thoughtfully. "Let's just get on with this."

He was removing his things from his bag and placing them onto the table, Elara followed, doing the same.

"Have you got everything?" he asked.

"I think so. . ." Her hair was falling all around her face as she dragged the items around in her bag, flustered and annoyed she couldn't find it. She made several attempts to brush it back but the brown locks fell back down, only pissing her off more. " _Shit_. Ugh, where is it? Always lost in this big bloody bag."

"What's lost?" Theo asked, leaning forwards on his chair and attempting to get a look.

With a huff, Elara sat up and panted, "My _quill_."

Shoulders shaking with light laughter, he relaxed back in his chair, musing, "Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

"Smart yes," she tossed her bag down forcibly onto the floor, giving up. "Prepared? No." Then Elara was laughing too, but with an evident undertone of irritation. "If it changes anything, I had a hot-headed Gryffindor chasing me around my dorm this morning."

"Johnson?"

She nodded. "I prefer to call her a pain in my bloody backside, though. _Much_ more fitting."

"Must be scary having that head of hair flapping about behind you. Here," there was a small tap sound from the table. Elara lifted her head and an unused eagle-feather quill was laying in front of her. "Just use my spare, I have millions."

She picked it up carefully between her fingers, tracing her curious gaze to Theo. "Right, thanks." _Well it doesn't seem as though he cursed it_ , she thought, and dipped the tip into the dainty pot of ink.

"So, the uh, first matter at hand. Dementors or Inferi, now just listen before —"

"Inferi," he cut in like a blade across flesh, sharp and quick, and positively _fucking_ annoying.

She narrowed her hazel eyes at him, practically flaming in their sockets. _Not this again_ , she was thinking. "You didn't let me finish."

"I don't care," he smirked.

Elara wanted to slap him, she wasn't going to. . . but then the memory of his words flashed in the front of her mind, and then pushed right back when he continued. "We're doing Inferi."

She drew a sharp breath. _Patience, patience, patience._ "The only thing choosing Inferi will do for us is the ability to show off our knowledge since everyone else knows nothing. Dementors are the practical option, everyone else knows enough about them already from third year so that's what Snape will choose, making the year easier for us. If we do Inferi then we'll just be drowning in knowledge we'll forget for when it matters."

"Such a swot," he hummed. "Are you sure Hermione Granger isn't under there hiding in your skin via Polyjuice potion?"

 _So perfectly annoying. . ._ "Piss off," she spat.

They sit knees deep in their own bubble of silence. They're both too stubborn to look away from the other, even as Elara's eyes narrow and Theo's lip slightly curls. Even as a different waiter returns with two Butterbeers served with limes.

Theo lets out a small, controlled breath, his eyes flicker, like he's been deep, _quite_ _deep_ in his thoughts.

"You want it your way?" he says, very low and husky, _testing_ , with a tilt to his head.

Elara juts her chin up, raising it higher and crossing her arms under her breasts.

His tongue rolls against the inside of his cheek again, even slower and with that smirk to complement the action this time. "Fine, princess, Dementors it is."

All Elara can think is that her breath should _not_ have hitched. "Lovely."

They had not even ten seconds to get started before they were interrupted.

"Elara!" The voice called out, and suddenly there were arms around her shoulders from behind. She twisted her head and saw Hermione's bright face smiling down at hers. "You alright? Cold, isn't it?" She steps to the side and begins rubbing her arms to dramatise her words. To be fair though, the iciness of the outside that clung onto her was evaporating into the air around them now.

Ron and Harry were standing behind her, both giving the girl warming lopsided grins which she happily returned.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. Elara turned her head, and the Gryffindor had only just noticed Theo sitting opposite her, bored expression dragging his features down. _Shame_. "I thought, erm, I thought you were coming here with Amber today?" she asked nervously, shifting her weight from leg to leg.

"Hey, yes, uh — yes I was, but important last minute changes happened and now I'm with him."

She didn't miss his sarcastic pout.

Hermione looked more confused as ever, bless her, 'Brightest Witch of Our Age.' _Couldn't she see this was clearly not a date?_ "Right, well if you want to sit with us after you're finished _this_ then you're more than welcome."

Elara smiled sweetly, genuinely. "I'm not sure I'll have time," she said with a sigh. "But thank you, 'Mione."

"Of course, see you back at school then?"

"Yeah."

"Bye 'Lara," Harry said, moving past her and following Hermione. Ron waved at her beside him.

"Bye."

As soon as they were out of range, Theo obnoxiously huffed and scratched his quill mindlessly on his parchment.

"They're weird."

Elara laughed sarcastically, her brow said and she took a sip of her Butterbeer, remembering quickly to lick off the foam that settled lightly on her top lip. "What makes you think so?" she asked.

He stared at her in disbelief, so much so he felt it necessary to move closer, lay his forearms on the table and leant in. He spoke as if the fact was _so_ obvious. "Did you not see the way that buck-toothed bush-brain was staring at me!?"

_Bit rude._

"For the record," Elara said holding her finger up. "Her teeth haven't been that noticeable since fourth year when Malfoy hit her with that curse," _which you happened to also play a part in._ _. ._ "Two, she has a name, which you know, you said it not ten minutes ago. And three, they're my friends," she shrugged and glanced over at the three seating themselves at a table.

"They probably think it's weird I'm sitting here with —"

"A Death Eater?"

Her brain stuttered, as did her body. "Well, no I was going to say —"

Theo tutted at her, shaking his head and toying with the end of the sleeve of his sweater. "Don't worry, Hunt." He lifted his alluring eyes at her for a moment, enough to distract her from the fact that he had drawn that sleeve up, revealing his bare forearm.

No mark. Bare. _Bare_.

"See? No mark there." Then he was pulling it back down, looking proud with himself, like he had proved her wrong at last. "And I don't plan on ever having one. Tattoos were never really my thing."

_He — but he's the son of — the son of his father. He — he's going to have that mark, he's going to enjoy it. He's — he's had this legacy since the first war, because Merlin knows the Death Eaters knew Voldemort would return again._

No — _no_. Elara couldn't let that proud look settle in his annoying perfect features. Couldn't let the satisfaction of thinking he _did_ prove her wrong resolve in those soft blue eyes that contrasted everything he should be. Everything he's meant to be. She was too stubborn.

"I wasn't going to say that." She doesn't realise how she sighed in relief that her voice hadn't trembled or shook, or rose in it's pitch because of this sudden surprise. "It's not about you it's more about, well, you know, your. . . My mother was killed by a Death Eater so it's only right that they want me especially, to be cautious. It probably just surprised them that I'd let myself be here with you."

"And do you feel the need to be cautious with me?"

"Honestly?" she quirked up a brow at him. He nodded slowly. "A little. At first a lot, but after you got rid of Cormac for me, not so much."

Theo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking more serious than she had seen him before. His eyes were heavier, like they were double-lidded, and he wet his lips, brows screwing up together.

"Elara. . . just because I have basic human decency and respect for women, does not mean you should trust me, not even a little. That's extremely naive and very much _Hufflepuff_. And let me tell you now that _that_ will only ever get you killed, kidnapped, raped or manipulated. Got it?"

He was right; she shouldn't have been that trusting or hopeful that he had at least one redeemable quality. But, somehow she couldn't shake the fact that by him saying that to her made Elara trust Theo a little more. An odd sensation, it was, and probably — no, definitely — stupid.

"Oh, yeah. I — you're probably right on that one," her smile was weak.

Theo smirked, but he was still so serious. "I know I'm right," he noted. "You shouldn't be so trusting and kind to people. _Always_ have a guard up, even if it's thin. That's why it fucking irritates me when you pretend to be — _well_ , you know what you pretend to be. . . because if you just acted like yourself, you'd never end up in a situation like that. It's a miracle you haven't already."

_When you put it like that. . ._

This — everything about this conversation was odd. Very, strangely, fucking _odd_. Theo, Theo Nott was giving her quite useful — though she would never admit it — life lessons. Warning her about where her actions might take her, even if the possibilities are low. Warning her about trusting him when he was doing things that contradicted his words.

Theo was honest with her. He never beat around the bush about things. Is always forward; always says what's on his mind even if it is rude or nosey; rarely apologises and _never_ takes her shit.

Elara liked that, that's why it was odd and strange and _fucking_ twisted.

She liked all of those things about him, more than she should.

It was terrifying and exciting all at the same time.

"Are you listening to me?"

She blinked back into reality, away from those _thoughts_. Her lashes brushed lightly against the hollows of her eyes that she didn't bother to cover, and was now beginning to feel self conscious of.

But it's not like Theo cared.

"Yes, sorry. Noted."

He gave a curt not. Satisfied, and took a gulp of his Butterbeer, managing perfectly not to let foam settle onto his top lip.

Elara followed the action, not knowing what else to do. They were supposed to be working on this project — this project that suddenly felt so meaningless to her.

Theo choked on his drink.

Elara's eyes darted up. He was looking at something over her shoulder, so she looked.

Draco Malfoy.

"The fuck?"

He was standing there, wide eyes, all black suit, parted platinum hair, not one stray out of place. His body was stiff, even as he moved forwards to their table — to Theo, looking down at him with so many emotions.

But most of all he looked betrayed.

It was quite amusing.

"Theo," he said through clenched teeth, nodding sharply at his friend.

Theo returned it. "Draco."

"Why are you here with her?" His voice was light, accusatory. Draco was trying to form his thin lips into a tight smile, but his obvious stiffness wouldn't let him. 

He glared down at Elara as Theo spoke.

"Defence project, why're _you_ here?"

 _Quick, sharp, poisonous_. "None of your business." Like a snake. A dirty, suspicious, questionable snake.

But Theo laughed, raised his left brow in that aristocratic way he would, and it was accompanied by that smirk, and that fake offended look. "Oh so you can ask questions but I can't?"

Draco placed a hand at the edge of the table, and his fingers flexed out so he was gripping the edges, knuckles turning white. "Just watch yourself Theodore. Hanging around with _Half-Bloods,_ even for a project in public, might just ruin you."

_Mr Malfoy, I am greatly offended._

Theo was laughing it off. Again, _odd_. "Yeah yeah, just piss off mate."

Just as quick as he was there, he was gone. Striding with those ridiculously long legs past Hermione, Harry and Ron and leaving out of the back door.

Elara sighed. "He definitely has some sort of stick up his arse."

"Oh, definitely."

She rolled her eyes, shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and — oh, she may have been dreaming but Theo's eyes, she could have sworn they watched the action, no, no, no — shuffling through the texts and parchment.

"Back to this then, I think we should do. . ." she tapped her finger against her chin as she opened a book she had required at the library the previous night. "What Dementors are, _obviously_ , their description, nature and behaviour, abilities, then talk further on that, so _like_ , the Dementors Kiss. And after that the spell to repel them — patronus charm, then we wrap it up with. . . etymology? Good?"

Elara looked up — because what else was there to do if he didn't immediately speak — and of course he was looking at her again, but this time he was bored, yet entertained, smirking, but rolling those eyes.

"How long are we thinking this will take?"

"Um, a few weeks," she cringed. "I know a good chunk of all this off of the top of my head from the summer reads we have to do and from Third year, but for all the in depth details I'll need to get quite a few books from the library and read them all. Cross reference as well, can't be too careful."

"And there's no way I can get out of this?"

It was her turn to smirk. She hoped it had the same effect. She was certain it did.

"Not after you dragged me down here to waste my weekend."


	10. Chapter 10

**_OCTOBER 11TH 1996_ **   
  


"Listen, my boy. . . In the old days I used to throw together the _occasional_ supper party. Select a student or two." He winked, and the smile grew wider on Slughorn's old, wrinkled face, spreading his features wide. "Would you be game?" he asked Harry almost desperately.

Theo let out a deep sound expressive of derision. "What is that old git waffling on about and _why_ does he have to be so loud about it? You're giving me a migraine already as it is. Don't need another."

Elara turned her head from her now crowded and ink-splattered piece of parchment. She followed the direction of Theo's distasteful eye roll where their potions Professor was swaying on his feet and cradling a large Firewhiskey in his palm while speaking to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I think he might be drunk."

He chuckled sarcastically and caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he suppressed that smirk that kept popping up. "You think?"

She shrugged, not bothering to entertain his sarcasm, which, _so far_ , was working quite well for her.

"Yeah."

"Splendid! Look for my owl," Slughorn beamed off to the right of her.

There were a few moments of comfortable silence as their potions Professor's blaring voice died down to inaudible words that strung together as one. This left the only sound in their little bubble being the scratching of Elara's quill hard at work between her fingers.

That was, until Theo groaned again. This time he threw his head back to the ceiling and raked his hand through his already scuffed-up hair, then proceeded to drag that hand dramatically down his features.

"Oh sweet Salazar he's coming over here," he mumbled.

Elara didn't hesitate at all when she kicked him abruptly from under the table. She caught him somewhere on the shin, earning muffled curse words that fell instinctively from his lips in return.

"Don't be rude," she said in a harsh whisper.

"And _Miss_ Hunt!"

The stern look melted away and her head lifted gracefully in a way that could rival all the Pure-bloods mannerisms. She placed her quill down gently onto the table, swiped on a warming smile and slivered back into that second skin Theo loathed.

"Hello Professor, having a pleasant morning?" she asked.

It was comical to not only herself but also to Theo as Elara kept that smile on her lips, and those dimples pressed into the soft skin of her cheeks. This was due to the fact that, one, she just kicked him brutally, and two, not even ten minutes ago she was yelling a stream of inaudible words at maximum speed to the Slytherin — _Oh my word! Can you not control yourself you absolute imbecile. I mean - ugh! You would never, in one thousand years think you were a Pureblood prick due to those stupidly clumsy hands!_ — all because his ink splashed lightly on her parchment.

Slughorn swayed on the spot he was planted in and almost lost balance causing Elara to flinch.

"Yes, yes, _very_ pleasant indeed," he motioned to the tumbler in his hand. "Ha! Oh. . . m'dear you haven't forgotten about that dinner party we spoke about all those weeks ago? I'll be expecting to see you there! You _will_ come won't you?"

"Of course I'll be there," she grinned, placing a hand on her chest. "I said it was an honour that you had invited me. Thank you again for that, I'm looking forward to it."

"Wonderful! You know you're just like your mother and father, you are. _So_ polite! Uncommonly sweet!" Several drops of the amber liquid that swirled in his glass splashed out of it and fell like raindrops to the floor. Barely noticeable, but there. Elara tried not to frown. "You too, should look for my owl. I'll have the date set soon. Merry Halloween!"

His last two words made the space between her eyebrows crease and the corners of her lips twitch. "Erm, yes. . . sure."

Not predicted, but not dismissed from thought, as soon as Slughorn had left, Theo asked immediately, "What's this dinner party then and why's he throwing it?"

Exhaling, Elara answered. If she had the effort, she would have teased him for lack of invite. "It's called the Slug Club. He picks students to attend these dinners and a Christmas Party. My mum attended them which is why _I_ know that it's just Slughorn's way of making connections to the student's relatives. Well, some cases it can be the students themselves. Like Harry or Hermione for example. The Boy Who Lived and the Brightest Witch of Our age." Elara chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm not really sure what I contribute to this, though, my dad is a baker and my mum's dead, and me? Nothing special."

Theo said nothing to that. He dipped his head, took a sip of his nearly empty Butterbeer and went back to lazily copying down notes from the textbook.

Elara didn't miss an odd pang in her chest when he didn't react. She knew it was silly, especially when she thought of who she was with and what she wanted, but it would have been nice to be told otherwise.

The silence was tense.

Theo sat up straighter, and Elara suddenly felt vulnerable under his gaze. "Oh, if you're waiting for me to disagree, I won't," his shoulder raised slightly, then dropped. "But, you _are_ just as smart as Granger and your track record is probably a _lot_ cleaner than hers. Slughorn probably wants to invite you so that when you're Minister of Magic he'll be able to ask for favours and what-not."

Elara also didn't miss the way she felt lightened in that moment. Her cheeks took the colour of a dusted rose and the blooming shade sat vibrantly against her freckled skin. She looked down and distracted herself by twirling her quill between her fingertips.

"Oh, no. . . I — I'd never become Minister. Too much fuss," she mumbled.

"Well then what would you be?"

She looks back up. _There's no way a conversation can work if your head is down and practically on the table like a coward._

"I'm sorry?"

"What would you be? After Hogwarts. If not the Minister?"

"I'm... erm, I'm not sure. The options are endless really."

He rolled his eyes. A captivating movement. "Well there must be something you enjoy above everything else."

"Well. . . I guess I quite like Divination and —"

Theo stood swiftly and began slipping his notes and books into his bag, cutting her off. Elara wasn't offended, but she definitely was confused. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, all while her right brow was raised curiously at him.

"You know you can't ask me a question and then leave when I'm mid-answer, right? Did they fail to teach you that in all those Pureblood 'how not to be a commoner' classes?"

The left side of his lips tugged upwards creating a sinister smirk on his god like face; casting an _oh so wrong_ flutter to start up in the depths of Elara's stomach.

_This was wrong. So, so, so wrong._

_But he is so, so, so, very attractive, even if he is a rude, nosey, arrogant arse of a Slytherin._

"Sorry, love, but I've just come to realise we've been here _far_ too long. So long, in fact, that I'm asking you about your interests which in my case, is quite concerning for my mental state."

Of course. She expected nothing less really. The question has confused her a little at first and she considered just plainly asking him why he cared.

Agreeing, Elara followed, packing away her things with a satisfied sigh. She supposed they had completed enough reading and note-taking for the day, so there really was no need to continue this mutual torture.

Theo asked politely for the bill as the two stood at the bar, and when the waiter returned, Elara reached once more into her bag and produced a small, blue velvet pouch containing her very little allowance. She took eight sickles and went to hand them over when Theo's hand closed around her wrist, his rings dug painfully into her skin, pricking her with their iciness.

"Um, no. We said I was paying, remember?"

Well yes. . . she did, but did he truly believe Elara would be the type of woman to demand such an obsolete act?

She scowled at him, and looked back and forth between him and the bartender.

"I was joking," Elara told Theo.

He reached into his own pouch; emerald green, tied with a dainty, silver, satin rope. His eyes bore into her in a lazy manor and he shook his head slowly, passing the sickles over.

" _I_ wasn't," he near-whispered.

Elara chest heated in annoyance. _Obviously_ he would tap into his polite, gentlemanly Pureblood ways and try to pay for the both of them, as if Elara couldn't _possibly_ support herself.

Well, she couldn't. . . but she could for some lousy Butterbeers!

She reached out to bring his arm down but failed against his stronger muscles. His arm remained and he handed over the golden coins. Huffing, she tugged on his coat and said, "Nott, this isn't the middle ages just let me pay."

No doubt annoying the poor bartender, Elara proceeded to snatch the sickles from his palm and press them into Theo's chest. Retching her hand free, Elara went to give her sickles instead.

But Theo was quick.

Of course he was.

Because nothing could ever go the way she wanted.

"Absolutely not. Move it," he ordered.

When she didn't, his fist closed over her little one and he nudged his side into hers harshly, shoving her out of the way.

In the act, her hip pressed into the corner of a table occupied by an elderly couple of Wizards, knocking over one of their glasses. Awkwardly, Elara made her apologies and turned quickly to try and follow Theo's tall frame out of the pub.

 _Great_ , she thought. He had paid for the both of them and was now using his ridiculously long legs to stride out of there before she could give him an earful.

She caught the fabric of his coat again and quite successfully turned his body so that he was facing her. Elara released her hold on him and let her arm fall to her side as the two stood under dancing snow, breath pale against the numbing air, cheeks and nose red.

A deathly glare layered itself on the surface of her hazel eyes. "You're a prick, you know that? It was _four_ Butterbeers, I was more than capable of paying."

There was no way he could have known. No way Theo Nott would have known about her family's wealth at that current moment. . . but it was just the way he had insisted and made it clear that she couldn't possibly hand those golden coins over.

Elara didn't want anyone knowing, assuming or even wondering. It was embarrassing. She sees every day how the Weasley's are still mocked by Malfoy for their wealth. She sees the way it never leaves them like a dark, depressing cloud, having a say in everything they do — or _try_ to do.

It was that 'perfect' side of her thinking of course, dominating the thought. The fear of not being as perfect or pure as everyone thinks she is. The fear that somehow it'll lead back to every other imperfection she has; every wrong thought she's thunk; every secret encounter she's had, and all the buried passions that would make no sense for someone like her to have.

She was overthinking, but that didn't mean that it wasn't possible for people to find out she's not as sweet, willingly generous, honest, and genuine as she appears to be.

After all, Theo Nott — whom she's had very little encounters with over her time at Hogwarts — had figured it out all within the first month of the academic year.

Well not everything, but a good _fucking_ majority.

She was just lucky she was better having other things not be as obvious to him, or Amber, come to think of it. Would be a nightmare if she were ever to find out.

"I don't know why you're so bothered," Theo deadpanned. "You're eight sickles richer than you would have been, so it's a good day, yeah?"

He held a smug look for a few seconds, and seemed to be satisfied enough with her reaction as he turned on his foot and began walking the track back to the castle. For a moment or so, Elara watched with a creased brow as he twisted his way through the town's folk and other younger school children, deciding what to do.

So she concluded; she did not want to join the trio inside the pub — because Elara has more self respect than being a fourth wheel — and she did not want to wander around Hogsmeade aimlessly by herself, all alone. So she followed the Slytherin.

When she reached him she shoved herself into his side as he once did, causing the prissy bitch to nearly face-plant the white blanket beneath them. She assumed he knew he deserved it, because his reaction was barely a breath of an insult, joke or curse word.

"You're a giant prick, Nott," she told him confidently while adjusting her outer layers.

"You've graced me with this information already, Hunt."

"I can say it again if you — _ugh_."

Elara's sentence was cut short when a taller, warmer, smaller body slammed into hers. This time though, the figure grabbed onto her shoulders and helped Elara regain her balance in the thick snow that was getting way out of hand for October. Looking up, she was greeted by the beaming, bright, and extremely guilty face of Amber Johnson.

"Elara!" she called out — even though her face was mere millimetres away from hers.

"Theo," an extremely deep, husky and shaky voice said somewhere at Amber's side.

The girl's chocolate eyes were raking all over Elara's face, searching, investigating, trying desperately to get her reaction to all of this. Frankly though? Elara couldn't see shit past the girls complex face and her large head of hair which, even though was tucked into a beanie, was still _just as_ wild.

"Miles?" she heard Theo say questioningly.

Confused, Elara managed just her name. "Amber."

Staring isn't quite the word for what Amber did as she stood back — revealing her companion, _Miles_ , a tall, broad, handsome, _Slytherin_ seventh year — though she'd fit the dictionary definition to a tee. Her eyes rest, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect is soft and worried instead of harsh and defensive. Perhaps it's her lips that give away her intention, not quite smiling but tilting as if they mean to.

As she takes the pair in — Amber's a little _too_ wild curls, her crinkled clothes, several purple hues layered on her neck, and Miles' tousled hair, wet lips and a deep red lipstick stain on the left side of his jaw — Elara understand perfectly what Amber (who said she was not leaving the castle today) had just come back from.

A Hogsmeade Hookup Date, very popular in their fourth year when the Durmstrang boys wanted to get 'into bed' with a Hogwarts girl or guy. Since they could not enter common rooms or dormitories, a couple, just like Amber and Miles, would make their jolly way down to the village and hookup somewhere there. Usually those spots were either a bedroom in the inn, the exceptionally nice Honeydukes bathrooms or the rather secluded alley between Zonko's and that old Hag's house.

Fourteen-year-old Elara was _quite_ disturbed when she interrupted Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies in that alley.

"You. . ." Elara started, not really knowing where to look.

_Amber's face? No._

_Miles? Absolutely not, he just shagged my best friend — very obviously — senseless._

_Theo? No, no, no, he'll probably laugh and make some joke and point out that I'm exceptionally flustered._

"Erm, you know what. . . I — I'm not even going to ask about this. You — Amber, you'll, uh, you'll see me at dinner."

There was no time wasted between her tight-lipped attempt at a smile at the Gryffindor and her feet rushing her past Theo, dragging him in the process, and almost racing her way to the castle in a fiddly rush.

She was no prude nor was she oblivious to the natural desire to have sex, but that didn't mean that it was never awkward basically catching your best friend in the act, _especially_ when you were made out to believe the other half of that equation was someone she supposedly hated.

_Oh god. Even worse. It was hate sex._

"Oh my god. . . ew — Helga's bloody bitch — ew — no," she was whispering to herself, all the while still holding on tightly to Theo's arm, hauling him along.

"Yes. . . ew," Theo agreed, and she almost choked on her own spit.

"Well I am glad we agree."

She then dissolved into a puddle of laughter and her stomach shook as she fought a new gale of giggles "I think I'm traumatised."

"Normally I'd say something about your little virgin eyes being scarred or something. . . but I'm one hundred percent sure Amber Johnson and Miles Bletchley just shagged in Hogsmeade."

The laughs melted into gasps of breaths and nervous glances around their empty space. Elara's eyes were blown wide at this point. She knew Amber wasn't a virgin and that she wasn't shy in getting what she wanted, but _Miles Bletchley?_ Really?

"Just stop, please, Nott, I'd like to keep this butterbeer down. And just because we agree does not mean that I don't despise your company."

Theo smirked through a small chuckle — "I didn't think you did, love" — and when Elara looked over to roll her eyes at him she noticed Ron, Harry and Hermione also walking a little further behind them.

"Don't call me love, Nott, it's weird."

He shrugged. "Instincts."

"Katie you don't know what it could be," a voice shouted behind them, they both ignored it.

"So, should I expect to see you in the library at six tomorrow?" asked Elara, thinking it was the last thing that needed to be said between them for that day.

He shrugged a second time. "Guess so."

There was a probing scream that made both of them turn. A girl was writhing on the floor, her friend stood over her, shouting words in Harry, Ron and Hermione's direction.

"I warned her! I warned her not to touch it!"

Theo cursed under his breath, nearly unnoticeable through all the girl's panicked words and pleads.

"What in the —"

Elara etched closer, the body was now being pulled by an invisible force along the snow in every direction. She turned back to Theo who was looking off to the side, looking paler than he did just two seconds ago. "Theo, it's Katie."

And when she looked back Katie Bell, Gryffindor chaser, one of Amber's dorm mates, was being heaved up into the air, hovering lifelessly. Her arms were stretched out, mouth was as wide as it could go, and her hair was floating around her as if she were underwater.

If the situation wasn't dripping with something evil, and Katie didn't look like a corpse, she could have pulled off being an angel of sorts.

Then her body fell to the floor.

"Do get any clos'r," someone new shouted sternly at everyone. It was Hagrid. "Get back, all of ya."

"Shit."

Theo. He was looking off to the side again, eyes narrowed, fists clenched at his sides. He was gaunt now, looking ill. It worried Elara a little.

"Nott, what's the matter?"

His head whipped back to her, and she had never seen him, or anyone for that matter, in a state like this before.

Horrified.

The expression hadn't even been on Harry's or Ron's, or Hermione's or Ginny's or even Neville's face as they battled Death Eaters in the ministry last year.

"I — I have to go. Sorry. Uh — walk back with Potter or something, I — I'll see you tomorrow, Hunt."

—

It was him. Theo knew it.

That flash of prominent, icy blonde hair was Draco. Well, not even a flash really. He stood there in the distance, stiff and uncomfortable-looking, just watching and observing the events unfolding before him in the snow. The events that had likely killed that girl. But his face was gaunt, paler than the hair on his head; his complexion lightly brushing green; purple surrounded his eyes like they had been since the summer. . . and he looked guilt stricken.

That was the biggest indicator. That one look among his face. It told Theo everything he needed to know. Gave his suspicions a lick of reality.

Everything seemed to come together in his head, though some points were uncertain.

A few months ago, Voldemort sent Bellatrix, Lucius, and many other Death Eaters into the Ministry of Magic where they awaited a frantic Harry Potter, desperate to save his Godfather, all so that they could retrieve a prophecy. But not everything went according to plan. They failed — the Death Eaters, most were caught. Lucius was amongst the imprisoned, and also happened to be in charge of the action of this mission. Meaning, _he_ failed. The cherry on top was that it was not even the first.

Theo had learned the truth behind Chamber of Secrets' reopening from Draco the summer after their second year. He told him about how his father was the one to install a diary into the hands of a young, innocent, little student — Ginny Weasley — who would perform a series of acts that would end in Voldemort returning in his younger form. Not even Draco knew the specifics, but Harry Potter had intervened and sought to destroy this diary, preventing this desired outcome. Resulting in Lucius Malfoy's first failure to the Dark Lord.

Two, definitely more than Voldemort can stand. Though instead of doing the smart thing and enlisting another older, wiser, more capable Death Eater to fill Lucius' place, what does the prat do? He recruits the son.

The date of the 'Marking Ceremony' was quite easy for Theo to guess, as well. June twentieth. Two days after the Battle. On the nineteenth, Theodore Nott Sr had been called to an emergency meeting at a ridiculous hour in the morning, and then the next day he was dressed in some of his finest dress robes and leaving for another meeting that was scheduled for seven in the evening and hosted at the Malfoy's.

Well, everything as of late had been hosted at the Malfoy's, but Voldemort liked to glide his way through all of the Pureblood's manors. The Nott's played host to him one week in August — the worst week of Theo's life.

Then the task. There was no way Draco wasn't set one, everyone in the rank had a duty of sorts. _But what was it?_ Theo had no idea. Surely the life of a sixth year Gryffindor Quidditch player wasn't something to be concerned of, and that's even if Draco had anything to do with that afternoon spectacle.

On his march up to the school, following the blonde, Theo asked himself numerous questions and tried desperately to find the answers —

_Why was he still at the school if given a task? Surely he'd be needed elsewhere?_

_What's so important inside the castle?_

_Did he do that thing to Katie Bell? If so, what's she to do with anything? Why did he look so guilty?_

_Does he have to murder?_

_Plant a dark artefact much like the Diary?_

_Trap Potter like 'Mad-Eye-Moody' and Quirrell had tried to do?_

_Get Dumbledore away from the post of Headmaster, as Umbridge failed to do?_

_Enlist more Pureblooded, underage Death Eaters?_

— because if this situation really has happened to Draco, and he was marked. . . Theo needed to be there to help. It'll destroy the boy otherwise.

He became short of breath between the exposure of the chilly air to his lungs and his extended strides as he tried to follow the lengthy figure through the castle. He shouted his name several times, each he ignored and turned another sharp corner.

When the walls around them were too cold to brush a hand over and the only light for a few more corridors were dim, burning orange torches, Draco was sure to hear the footfall behind him, and know that Theo was now mere metres away.

He called out to him again, and this time he stopped, but he didn't turn around, just stayed routed in a stiff position, facing the stone wall that held the entrance to the Slytherin commons.

"I don't have time for whatever it is that's got you in such a huff," Draco sighed. Theo saw his shoulders relax as he spoke, but tense again as soon as silence fell.

"I saw you there, you know? I have questions."

"Questions?" he said over his shoulder, now showing his profile.

"Yeah," Theo started. "What the fuck were you doing? I mean — I'm not blind, mate. I saw you there lurking, all creepy and shit, not to mention how fucking guilty you looked."

His shoulders lifted up, then fell back down rather casually, in a way the elder Malfoy's would frown upon. "So I was distraught? Something bad obviously happened to the girl out there."

Draco's chest was expanding at a rapid rate and his hands were clenched at his sides. The heat of his temper was slowly, and quite obviously rising off of him like steam from a cauldron. His failed attempts at brushing off Theo were failing, and making him grow somewhat paranoid, from what the other could see.

He took a step forward. The dungeons were empty. It was just them. Nobody would overhear anything.

"Yeah. . . something did happen. I expect Wonder-Boy, his friends, and my little _unwanted_ study partner are being questioned right this moment about what they saw, or _thought_ happened."

Draco sighed, his voice softened slightly, and he chose to turn his body round to face Theo. "Why are you telling me this Nott?" he asked 'tiredly.' "I really don't have the time to entertain your theories."

_Cut the bullshit._

"Did you have anything to do with it?" Theo asked abruptly.

Draco looked as if he was about to explode. His eyes were wide with fear and he stumbled back a few steps. He looked as if he might bolt, but instead, he remained. "Excuse me?" he choked out.

"You heard me, Malfoy, and we both know what's probably inked into your left forearm right now so there's no point denying it." Theo drew his hand down his face and loosened his tie a little. "Look. . . whether you like it or not, I know you, and you've been nothing but detached and moody since the summer."

"Yeah?" he laughed maniacally. "Probably to do with the fact that my father's in _fucking_ _Azkaban_. Ever think about that?"

Theo shook his head. "You don't give two shits about Lucius. It's something else."

Draco threw his arms out in perturbation. "He's still my father, not to mention it's got my poor mother all worked up. She can't go three hours without crying and wailing about him —"

"Just tell me the truth and then I can help you cover this up" — Draco gulped — "I know you had something to do with what happened out there, and you know why? That girl I was with, _Elara_ _Hunt_ , she's the biggest empath, or rather, _sap_ , I've ever met, and she didn't look half as bad as you."

A quick thought flashed in his mind that teased a smile at the corners of his lips. Theo thought about how if this was him and Elara in the dungeons arguing right now, or rather, him interrogating her, that she would have cracked already, revealing something new about herself which explained a few unknown things. It was truly a shame Draco was too arrogant and stubborn for the same to happen.

His face was crimson and his next words were spoken through gritted teeth. "I had _nothing_ to do with that."

Theo moved to lean against the wall. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets and he crossed one leg over the other.The conversation seemed to be moving slowly, and Theo wasn't planning on backing down.

"I don't quite believe you. I'm sorry but I don't." Theo jutted his chin up at Draco and briefly formed a frown. "C'mon mate," he said a little lighter. "We've known each other since my dad's hooker phase back in eighty-six. How many times are you going to make me repeat myself? _I know you._ "

"Maybe you don't if you're accusing me of this"

"It's not an accusation if it's true."

"Just fuck off, Theodore."

"Okay as much as it's tempting to get riled up over that, you need to be serious with me. Mcgonagall and Dumbledore are going to figure this out and all this will come back to you. Let me help," he replied slowly. If he knew Draco well enough, then he was about to snap at any moment, it was best to speak civilly even though he was being a difficult prat. Already, the purple that cradled his eyes had deepened as he paled and he kept flexing his fingers around his wand that he held firmly at his side.

"I'm warning you now. . . get the fuck out of my sight."

Theo wanted to scream as nothing but frustration filled him. He was trying to help. Couldn't Draco see that? Couldn't Draco see that Theo wasn't going to say anything if he admitted it? That he would do nothing but try and get him out of this mess? His ears reddened, nostrils flared, he ran a hand through his hair as his chest contracted. He shook his head.

Draco sneered at him then laughed, only adding to Theo's exasperation. "You think this is funny?" he snapped. He glared again with hatred in his dulling eyes that were once so strikingly silver. "You are an extremely stupid git. Aren't you?"

"I'm just trying to help you."

That's when he lost it altogether and took three steps forward, his wand suddenly drawn and digging into the underside of Theo's chin. A look of shocked surprise came to his face, but he remained calm (as he knew Draco wouldn't really do anything) and his brow curved in a curious way, wondering what Draco was doing.

That part of him that knew Draco wouldn't cause harm to him felt humoured, entertained at the hawthorn wood denting his skin. He laughed shortly, dipping into that sarcasm. "Oh wow, this is a duel now is it?" he said, studying the situation. Draco was pissed he was right, there was no way one could be this defensive and not be guilty. But how far would he go with the back and forth, Theo wondered. "Not entirely fair though, hands are stuck in my pockets mate and you've got me pinned to a wall like one of your little forth years."

Draco yanked Theo's face closer to his by his coat collar, their noses were close but Theo slightly towered over him, and the rattle and shake of his breaths were now very noticeable. His eyes had darkened dangerously and narrowed into slits but they held all other sorts of emotions which contradicted his words.

"Get out of my sight. Now," he snarled at another attempt to brush this situation under the rug.

"And you said I'm the stupid one." Theo mimicked the other's features, sneering back, his soft, blue eyes more deadly than before. "Listen to me right now, _princess;_ you are going to get caught. I'm literally offering to help and make sure your secret remains just that until we figure out a way to get you out of this mess."

Draco pushed Theo away, slamming him hard into the stone wall and flinging himself into the opposite.

At the contact, the brunette made a sort of grunting noise from the depths of his throat. He muttered curse words as his hand reached to the back of his head, where he felt a small patch of wetness amongst all of his curled hair. _Blood_ , _lovely_. His skull had caught on one of the nicks in the stone as he was shoved back.

Theo was trying, _really_ _hard_ , but the git always had to make everything so fucking difficult. In fact, finding out the truth, telling Dumbledore and Mcgonagall and whoever-the-fuck-else-cares about Draco's little tattoo could probably earn Theo a few golden house points and get him a spot in line to become the next Harry Potter, favoured by all from saving the wizarding world from a deadly sixteen-year-old Death Eater with a horrible attitude.

A few other perks he'd get from this treacherous choice: Elara would like his presence a lot more and wouldn't flinch whenever theo mentioned anything about Voldemort, the war, Slytherin house or it's students, thus making her all the more tolerable to work with.

_Wait, that might actually be the only perk. . ._

Well, the cons to this choice would include: a beating from his father; a torture session from the Dark Lord; lost friendship with Blaise, Draco, (and no doubt Pansy because lord knows she worships the ground he walks on) and a few other Slytherin students; hated by Purebloods; a disgrace to the Death Eaters and a disgrace to the Sacred twenty-eight.

Theo wiped the blood tricking between the pads of his fingertips onto the side of his coat, and when he looked from the wall (which had a small coat of blood on one of the stones) and to his friend, his stomach dropped in disappointment.

Draco's hawthorn wand was drawn again and gripped painfully in his palm. He had thrown his Occlumency walls up and was looking into Theo with a plain, yet serious expression. The word 'stupefy' was then whispered from his thin lips confidently and a flash of red light was produced from the tip of said wand.

"What the fuck?" Theo shouted, dodging it. His hand reached into one of the inner pockets of his covert coat and brought out his wand — Cedar wood with a Unicorn hair core, fourteen inches — and he curled his fingers tightly around it.

 _What the fuck?_ he asked himself again. He could feel his fist smashing into his nose, splattering red blood on the dirty walls. How wonderful that would feel, but since he was feeling nice. . .

_"Expelliarmus."_

Theo cringed as Draco cast a quick ' _protego_.' "First year spells. Really?" he drawled.

"Well it's most practical since you're trying to bloody stun me."

His pale lips turned up into something between a sneer and a smirk and he struck again. " _Impedimenta_!" A turquoise light shot of his wand this time, and Theo missed it by mere inches.

"Seriously just fuck off."

Several back-and-forth spells later, when all else had failed, Draco threw his body weight behind his left fist that edged closer to Theo's face, it hit his jaw with such force blood pooled into his mouth, his wand discarded to the floor. Pain erupted from the point of impact.

Spitting the blood onto the floor and dragging the back of his hand over his lips, Theo straightened out and with his own two hands grasped Draco's head in his hands and brought his knee cap up to his nose. There was a blunt crack and he released the light haired head satisfied with himself.

"No," he panted. "I know you don't want this, you've never wanted this If I leave you'll just carry on like your fucking father and become everything he is, worthless, evil, heartless. . . and nothing but a slimy criminal."

Crimson leaked from both his nostrils and his nose was twisted right. Draco seized Theo by the shoulder and drew his fist back again, ploughing into his stomach. He repaid this by punching his jaw, fist colliding with an echoing _thump_. They both continued this battering of punches until Draco fell to the floor.

There was a mass amount of blood on his knuckles and a bruise already forming on his jaw, he could feel it, and nothing but frustration was running rapidly through his mind. 

His chest gently rose and sank with each shallow breath he drew in. "Show me your fucking arm and I swear to Salazar I'll help you," he said quietly, sighing, standing, retrieving his wand and not turning his back on the blonde who seemed to have the same idea.

Draco rose slowly, from his knees to his feet. He stood with shoes parallel to his shoulders, his back straight, fists balled and bloody, too.

"There's _nothing_ on my arm. And even if there was, you would have no right whatsoever to see such a mark. It's an honour, one you're not worthy of, Theo. _There's no point lying to me_ , I know you sympathise with all the Mudbloods and half-wits in our society. . . but it's okay right because you still believe Purebloods are superior? Tell me where that makes sense."

_"Diffindo!"_

A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Theo's body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken. He was bruised and winded, his head pounding. Draco had just sliced him open. From his ribs down to his navel there was a thick, angry gash, spilling with blood.

_"Stupefy."_

And everything became nothing.


	11. Chapter 11

**_OCTOBER 11TH 1996_ **   
  


Young women's voices. . . So familiar yet so fuzzy, unknown, and distant through his unconsciousness.

"Rather dramatic if I'm being honest. I'm sure you can remember from that 'incident' in third year, Salazar's spit."

The one with the lighter tone and smoother voice laughed, it was light and breezy and undulating through the air like the gentle pull of a chord. "Oh of course I remember,"she said lightly."What about _this_ _one_ though?"

There was a scoff that sounded somewhere from behind the conversation. It was ignored by the two girls.

"No, no. He'll brush it off, nothing too bad."

"He better," she sighed with underlying humour. "I'm stuck with him until our Defence project is done. He's been a little of a nightmare so far, not sure if I can handle more."

It was Elara.

She was conversing with someone on the other side of his blackened lids, which Theo chose not to open just yet — would be awkward and unnecessary. He knew where he was; the hospital wing, and his awareness was all thanks to the vague scent of crisp lemon and general cleanliness.

It seemed as though that he had already been healed through his insensibility by Madam Pomfrey. But even with that likely assumption, his whole body was throbbing, especially his head, his stomach ached and felt as if it were tightly wrapped in bandages — he couldn't think of a reason for why they were needed, and this thinking only added irritable, pressured thumps to his temples.

Theo paused and backtracked for a moment at the thought of Malfoy. _Where the fuck is that git?_ He hoped for the blonde to be opposite him, in a bed just the same with a good amount of his own bruises and broken bones, hurting, burning, pounding. It's what the dick deserved, getting all riled up and pouncing on him like that. Going absolutely feral.

"Well If anyone can put up with him for a long period of time over something as tedious as homework it'll be you. Seriously, 'Lara, how do you have so much patience? I mean, _for example,_ the way Cormac has been looking at you the entire term and you have barely said anything in return. It's quite impressive."

Astoria.

"I just don't give the attention they crave, it becomes dull on their part after a while."

There was the addition of a new voice, most likely the one that had scoffed. It was a familiar one, one that always held a tinge of judgement, bluntness and brutal honesty. "Tough little life being so desired is it?" they questioned in a sarcastic and mocking tone.

Pansy.

"Well, unlike you _I_ relish attention, but — _oh_ — gosh, he's back with us. I'm dashing back to the common room — don't want to be anywhere near it while it's healing. Coming Pans?"

There was an uncertain sense in the pause that followed.

"Erm, of course. . . this one is still flat out anyways." There was a prodding at his side. Theo fought not to react or squirm under the fine point of a freshly manicured nail and made a mental note to get her 'round the back of the head later on. "Are we quite sure Theo isn't the dramatic one though? I mean, once when he was seven he —"

"Irrelevant Pansy, let's go. Elara, I'll see you soon? Maybe you can help me with Divination this term, yes? Trelawney is an absolute nightmare. Oh! I can make tea while we work. . ." she half-sang.

Elara replied with her agreement — _of course,_ Theo thought bitterly — and then there was the sound of tapping and clicking of shoes, they drifted away and out of the ward.

With a relieved sigh that pained his stomach marginally, Theo's eyes snapped open. Only, when he expected to see the bright glow of light, he was instead greeted by the fierce stare of Elara Hunt, who quite obviously, was still rooted in a spot to the side of the bed he occupied. Her arms were crossed over herself, her cherry-tinted lips (likely from the bitter wind) formed a light smirk and a delicate brow was arched at him. He never noticed, though, to his soon-to-be embarrassment, that she was still wearing the clothes from their Hogsmeade trip, excluding her coat which had been discarded to the chair at his side.

"Well you're a ruddy fake-sleeper that's for sure, but you do happen to be very much alive. . . Congratulations, Nott."

A groan rocked up from the back of his throat as he moved to leaning on his elbows. "The fuck are you doing here, Hunt?" he asked quite blasé.

Elara smiled innocently, forming mischievous dimples. She was a prepossessing sight; capturing his breath with an invisible fist and unreal, wicked intentions. Quite like a Veela. A beautiful woman with golden hair and skin that appears to shine moon-bright. Though when angry, pissed off, or defensive, she becomes a sharp, cruel-beaked creature.

She shoved his legs to the side and seated herself on the bed, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on one of her arms. Her nails, like Pansy's he noticed, were also freshly manicured and cared for, though they were a muted shade of rose instead of furious crimson.

"Oh I'm sorry was a pretty face not the first thing you wanted to wake up to?" she asked, raising the back of her hand to his forehead and mimicking the action of checking his temperature.

In a slight — _very slight_ — flush, he scoffed. He would later blame this physical reaction on whatever potions Pomfrey had shoved down his throat, or the fact that he was probably still half-unconscious and weak.

"Pretty? Is that what they're telling you?"

"Hilarious." Elara removed her hand and reached onto the table at his bedside. "Here." She presented a dainty vial of an effervescent, periwinkle liquid he faintly remembered to be _pain relief potion_. "Madam Pomfrey popped out and told me if you wake up you need to drink this."

He took it with a nod of his head in thanks, then swallowed it all in one gulp, not missing the way Elara's eyes briefly flicked down to where his Adam's apple gently bobbed.

What he failed to remember about the potion was that it was absolutely — "Disgusting," he choked.

Theo handed the vial back to Elara who placed it back where it came from. He licked his lips and sat up against the metal frame, the poles cold against his care back but he didn't care. "So, worried I died then? Awfully cute of you. . . but I hate to say, I don't like you very much and even if I did, there is unfortunately no more room for you — or anyone for that matter — in this stone cold heart of mine."

"Oh don't flatter yourself," she laughed. "This is about the project."

He tutted, "Should have known," rolled his eyes. "So what about our project needed you to be right here" — he motioned the length of her, still stood beside him — "right now at my side like some ugly little widow."

Elara held a finger out at him with every point she made.

"First, widow implies that we were once wed, and, _well_ , you already know what the chances of that happening is. Second, you are ever the charmer, Nott, truly I've got butterflies at the compliments you give me based on appearance. And third, I just needed to make sure you weren't dead or maintaining a serious injury that would interfere with the project and result in me doing everything."

"Because that would be _such_ a pity wouldn't it?"

"Yes, very."

Theo sighed, letting his eyes dance over what he could see of himself. "Well, I'm not really sure what shape I'm in, but I assume good enough because I'm able to resist strangling you, _and_ I can't see any cuts or bruises, so I'm perfect." He beamed up at her blank face. "Just as handsome as I once was."

"Oh you wish."

Elara lifted her hand and gently tapped her forefinger thrice on his stomach, every tap emitting sparks beneath the surface. She then swiped it across the width of the general area — setting off images in his head he was forced to push down for all time — before bringing it back.

"There happens to be a very large gash right under those bandages."

Oh, _oh_. Next, that hand was at his face, reaching up and out, higher than he anticipated, but what had he really expected? She was pushing back his hair slowly, raking her fingers through every fawn and caramel strand carefully until they weren't clouding his vision as much.

"You also have the face of a corpse, I can't lie," she whispered, removing herself from him.

Her head turned and she glanced over to the other side of the room, there were muffled voices and other sounds of people moving between the beds that interested Theo. Was it Malfoy? When she looked back at the boy, her expression was one of slight concern and uneasiness. Her lips parted and locked a few times and her blinks were slow before her tongue dampened her lips and she uttered the question to him, almost like she wasn't allowed to ask it.

"So anyway. . ." she started timidly, "What happened between the two of you? All anyone knows is that Draco Malfoy has no free time for the rest of the term, and that, well, you're in an inferior state."

No. She of all people couldn't know; would have to be the last even if a whisper of the unknown truth came out, because despite her facade, she's still mostly pure.

"I don't really think it's any of your business."

Her expression shifted. She had expected him to reply with that, hence the hesitation. Now she held the suggestion that she knew something he didn't, and somehow, this was humorous to her.

"If you don't tell me the truth then I'll just _have_ to believe the rumours they're spreading, and I'll tell you, just for your sake, that some of them are. . . well, you'd be furious, to put it simply."

"What are they saying?" he rushed out, panicked, for all the wrong reasons.

A giggle swirled around her lips and her hand was splayed flat against her stomach. "Not telling until you tell me what happened."

"No. Stop being so nosey."

"Awfully hypocritical of you. I believe you were the nosey one first what with all the _'stop pretending you're perfect, ugh it's pissing me off'_ shit."

 _Hm_.

_Fair game, there._

_But I don't sound like that._

She was so perfectly annoying, gazing at him with calmly observant, hazel eyes, knowing she had him under her control in that moment. Knowing he'd reveal. She unfortunately knew now how to play to his weaknesses.

While Theo had thought these rumours were based on the real motives for their. . . _disagreement_ , he still complied to Elara's assumption that he too cared deeply for his reputation.

"Fine. Malfoy and I had a duel."

She huffed. "Yes, but why? And what caused him to try and slice you in half."

Slice you in half.

_A sudden gush of pain. . . stomach aching. . . arms losing tension, legs weakening. . . 'diffindo!' . . a thick, angry gash pouring with blood._

_Oh what an ignorant, pompous, little fucking arse._

He'd deal with that at a later date. Elara was here.

Theo shrugged, eyes flitting to the ceiling, appearing bored — which he most definitely was not — and wearing his own sort of mask. Odd, how he felt he only needed to wear it around her. He'd have to deal with that fact at a later date too.

"I insulted him and his father."

Her sigh that followed was softly deflating; it was as if a tension had lifted yet left her with a melancholy instead of relief. "That's the most I'm going to get out of you isn't it?"

"Yep," he stated with a _pop_ of his lips.

And so it stayed like that for a few moments, moments that dragged out longer than necessary, stretching and vibrating with the sound of nothing between them. The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously, poking at something in Theo's head. _Speak, speak, speak,_ it chimed.

_This is the side you wanted to see of her; the side that's teasing you; letting her guard down slightly around you; being here in the first place. In what world would Elara Hunt be at your bedside after being split open, huh? Take advantage of it. Speak._

"So how long have I been here exactly?" he blurted out. Her rose-kissed lips parted as a means to speak but he continued. "And should I expect a very large pile of homework in my dorm when I return? You know, it would mean a lot to me if you'd take that load off my hands. I mean, I _am_ injured quite badly, love."

A grin spread over Elara's face, wide and open, showing her over-the-top white teeth. _They're fake, right? Maybe she got them done at the same place Zabini went to?_ She was clutching her stomach with both hands and laughter was rippling around her; the apples of her cheeks ruby-red and her eyes streaming with glossy tears.

"I — oh my goodness! You're joking. You're joking right? I — you — you've been in here for _two_ _hours_. Look, I'm wearing the same clothes I was at Hogsmeade."

Realisation of what he had just asked caused his next words to freeze at the back of his tongue. The ability to just speak blocked by his saliva which had thickened within the last two seconds.

Theo looked up and she was staring at him in astonishment. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and prayed to every Muggle god and ancient Wizard that it wasn't noticeable. He coughed, distracting her from his embarrassment, then pushed back his hair back from his face. The action did nothing, as Elara had already done so for him mere moments ago.

"Library at seven tonight, then?" he rushed out, desperate for her to just _go_. Too many thoughts had rushed through his head all at once with her presence. Overwhelming him completely.

Would she be here if not for the project?

No.

Would she have teased and bantered with him if Astoria and Pansy had remained at his side?

_'But if I'm around you and you're trying to hide it, I'll go fucking mad. . . Just don't be fake.'_

Maybe.

Why did he like her touch on his stomach? Those little taps, so delicate. That swipe across his abdomen.

_Because I'm a sixteen-year-old boy with hormones and natural fucking wants and desires. It's been a long time, alright?_

Why did he enjoy the sight of her crying with laughter, doubling over?

_She looked like a clown. I like clowns. They're fucking ridiculous and the thought that people find them amusing makes me feel amused._

And why did he find himself caring less and less about his first intentions with Elara the more time he spent in her company?

Unanswered.

For now.

"No, don't worry, I'll let you rest. Tomorrow though."

"Tomorrow," he agreed.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 12TH 1996_ **   
  


_Just put the quill to the parchment Elara. . ._

𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒛𝒐,

𝑰'𝒎 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝑶𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 12𝒕𝒉, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒔𝒐, 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚!

𝑻𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 20 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒆𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒐𝒈𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓? 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒅. 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑪𝒆𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒅𝒊𝒅, 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒕.

𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒕𝒐 𝑳𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑩𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑯𝒐𝒘'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚? 𝑰'𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒂𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆-𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚.

𝑰'𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕.𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑨𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒐, 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚.

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒊? 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒇 𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒐, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚.

𝑰 𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒐𝒈𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒖𝒑 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 (𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆, 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚) 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒔. 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕.

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝑬𝒏𝒛𝒐, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆.

𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒎.

𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆.

𝑫𝒂𝒅'𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑲𝒂𝒊 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒆.

𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑬𝒏𝒛𝒐, 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆.

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑬𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒂.

Elara would never get a reply.

—

It began as a whispering in the air. Swirling through the thickness of the walls. The day had been dreary and the sky was like a dome of misty-grey. The clouds had taken over, swallowed the sunlight.

Theo stared out at the courtyard as he thought.

She was confusing him again. Invading his thoughts without permission; twisting his mind and motives.

Elara. The 'Hufflepuff Princess' _(awfully cringey name)._ To him she had seemed too perfect, what with the way she carries herself, speaks, and does things that are effortlessly helpful and good. He knew on the train ride, after one glance and one sentence slipping from her lips that there was more under there, under all the perfection.

And he was right. She wasn't what he thought all the years before. Prim. Demure. Self-effacing. Elara Hunt was a fraying, crumpled mess on the inside. Hurting. Grieving. Bored.

But she's also bold. Annoyingly _fucking_ bold when she wants to be.

_"So you know about my school life? You're not really doing a good job at making me think you're not stalking me, Theo."_

Feisty.

_"You're a prick, you know that? It was four Butterbeers, I was more than capable of paying."_

And witty.

_"Oh I'm sorry was a pretty face not the first thing you wanted to wake up to?"_

A huffing wind rose up then, dancing along the drapes. A tinkling sound came to his heads as the first pearls of rain dropped onto the window. The sound was like the glassing click of a champagne flute, lilting and clear, padding on the surface of the lake in the distance. Theo looked in the direction that led to those large golden doors, to that large room where Elara was.

He didn't know when or why it occurred to him. But Theo didn't mind Elara's presence.

—

She was there, as he predicted.

Today, her hair was tied at the back of her head with a satin, cream ribbon. Whiskey waves and baby hair loose and framing her face which had a honey-glow from the dim candlelight.

Her hands were occupied with a large stack of books, red, orange, yellow and brown. She was reaching and bending and placing them all back in their rightful places. But they weren't her books, Theo noticed.

He watched with fixed curiosity as she nibbled at her lower lip and failed to sense his presence. But in no less than five more minutes of watching the witch mumble and roll her eyes at herself, Theo approached casually, taking to leaning against a bookcase behind her.

"Charity work?" he blurted loudly.

Elara twisted her body around sharply, the books tumbling in her little arms. Her hazel eyes were doubled in size. Her blush seared through her cheeks and for a minute it looked as if her face were on fire. She suddenly felt awkward, demure, and coy; even going as far as attempting to hide her rosy features behind her palm.

"Theo! I mean. . . Nott! God." She sighed, raising her hand to cradle her cheek; chest slowing down from it's quick inhales and exhales. "You gave me quite the fright."

He liked that sight, he decided, seeing her all flustered and panicked. Shy and embarrassed with herself. It was a different vulnerability to when she had revealed her small secret to him all those days ago.

He smirked wickedly. "Can't say I'm sorry. You should see your face, all pink and shit, quite the sight."

Her face fell. And she raised her fingers again — though this time to swipe along the space beneath her left eye — to her reddened face, more red than he had realised, he was shocked at how he hadn't noticed.

Her eyes were puffier than usual; bottom lip home to minuscule, crescent dents from her teeth; faint, inky-coloured blotches resting on the high points of her cheekbones and her lazy attire (jeans and a mousy brown, knit sweater dotted with white flecks).

Well actually, it wasn't lazy, though if she were a prissy-Pureblood her appearance would have been so.

When he spoke, it was softer and curious. His head tilted to the side, following her trying to avoid him. "Wait, what _is_ wrong with your face?"

She turned to look away but he reached out and turned her back to him with his hand holding her chin. The pads of his thumb and forefinger pressing delicately into her soft skin. She showed no sign it bothered her, if anything, there was a slight chance she had calmed at his touch.

"Have you been crying?" he asked slowly, studying her face.

"No," she replied almost instantly. It was a lie.

Theo's brow only had to raise half a centimetre for her to release a displeased sigh and utter the word 'yes.'

He tried not to look too proud with himself. Relishing secretly in the way that he was quite possibly the only one she reacted to like this. So willing, so submissive, so easy.

"Explain then."

He released his hold of her at the same time his eyes deepened and his soft blue gaze rested solely on her. Watching. Watching the way she visibly numbed on the inside and silently thanked him for reminding her — asking her.

"You're allowed to be upset, remember? Don't pretend to be okay," he whispered, shaking his head subtly.

Elara glanced down at the ground, scuffing her shoe along the hardwood floor, stroking a finger slowly up and down the velvet spine of the yellow book in her stack. When she glanced up directly at him, her eyes were fading from it's glossy layer.

"It's erm — it's my brother's birthday today and I just miss him, other than that I'm fine."

He'd wonder later on as to why at this point he felt as if her answer was enough to satisfy him. Why he never proceeded with pushing her, squeezing every thought out, not just the general feeling. He'd wonder why he was okay with dropping the subject quickly, taking up a casual conversation with her.

"Alright. . . So," he gestured between the mahogany shelves and the books nestled in the crook of her arm. "Charity work?"

Her brows crumpled and the right side of her lips twisted up slightly. "I'm sorry?"

"The books. You don't take Muggle studies, and _those_ are Muggle Studies textbooks."

She looked down at them herself, and it clicked. Her lips were in a casual smile now and she resumed her process of searching the shelving for the right place to slot in _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles._ "Oh, right, they're Lavender's, I was doing her a favour."

"And did you want to do it or was a gigantic prick of a yellow and black crest telling you that you have to?"

"No, I wanted to do this. Fancied some peace and quiet for an hour before you arrived." She turned to him from the bookshelf, hand on her hip.. "Speaking of, why are you so early, it's only just gone six?"

"Boredom," he shrugged in reply.

"Right."

Elara smirked and carried on as she was, searching the stacks and slotting velvet books back into place. "Right," she mused.

They moved around a few corners, into different isles laced with different colours for the different topics the books were about. She seemed to have moved on from the Muggle Studies textbooks and onto her own now because they were amongst the Care of Magical Creatures shelves. He knew she took that class based on the fact that during their Hogsmeade visit, she couldn't stop comparing Inferi and Dementors to other creatures and beings. So she obviously took the class if she knew so much.

Elara found the spot for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them, third edition, and rose onto her tiptoes to reach the spot. When she couldn't, she huffed and tried again, elongating her arm, even attempting to throw it.

"I — ugh. Helga's bloody bitch," she whispered under her breath. Theo suppressed a smirk, something he had to do a lot around her, and took a few steps closer, taking the book into his own hold.

"Here," he said, looking down at her as he effortlessly slotted it into place.

"Oh, thanks," he heard her murmur.

A weighted silence settled over them, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere that Theo was feeling. Did she feel it too? Maybe I shouldn't have done that. Too close.

His unsettled eyes glanced unceremoniously around and tried to avoid catching her glances that passed by.

"So which brother?" Theo blurted, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Elara gave him a look of confusion. She paused what she was doing and lent on the bookshelf behind her, arms folded, brows knitted together. Theo moved, mirroring her actions on the opposing side.

"Which brother's birthday is it? You have two right, they went here?"

Elara gave a light laugh, just a breath of one, barely there. "It didn't even cross my mind that you'd know of them," she thought aloud. "It's Lorenzo's birthday, twentieth. Kai's is in March and he lives in France with Sadie so we don't usually see him. Well, I don't see him, that is. Because of school."

Theo nodded along, remembering two boys from his early years. Kai, the Head boy, and Lorenzo, the Quidditch Captain.

From his memory, they were both slightly terrifying for Hufflepuffs. Both boys were quite broad and muscular, that of a beaters build. Lorenzo was popular, loud, obnoxious, a slightly less of a threat than the Weasley twins, and good friends with Cedric Diggory, even though he was a year older. Kai had been quite good friends as far as Theo could tell (since he had only seen the guy around during his first year) with Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague.

The name Sadie stood out to him though, he didn't recall anyone named Sadie throughout his years at Hogwarts. He considered Beauxbatons for a moment, since Elara mentioned France but. . . .

"Who's Sadie? If you don't mind me asking."

"She's Kai's wife, lovely woman, a few years older than him — Gryffindor." Her face then lightened. "She's pregnant actually, due this December."

When she saw that Theo's face didn't lighten or grin quite like hers she dropped the subject, twisting it around and onto him.

"What about you? Any siblings? Sister's-in-laws?"

He shook his head, looking down at the floor. "No. No siblings, just me."

He had always wanted one, a sibling, older or younger. A child can only get so used to the loneliness that the beige walls of his Manor giver. Can only spend so many hours alone in the playroom before a heavy sense of boredom rushed over him.

That's why — for a while — he was glad to have Blaise and Draco. He had always known them, since the beginning really. They visited with their parents every weekend, and the boys would venture out onto the grounds, riding the Malfoy's Abraxans and feeding the Peacocks. Blaise used to be stupid and purposely get to close and try to play a game where he let the peacock near his hand but when they went to bite he'd pull it away. Theo tried once. He has a small crescent-shaped scar on his left forefinger.

And Pansy. He couldn't forget Pansy. He had met her a little later on in his life, but it honestly felt like he had known her throughout the whole of it. She was the closest thing he had to a sibling — to an older sister, though she'd probably beat him if he called her 'older.'

As far as he knew, his mother and father had tried quite hard for a child long before he was conceived. He had knowledge of at least four magical miscarriages, but there was a large possibility she had more.

Once he had learned of this, he suppressed the feeling of desperation to have someone like that in his life, someone like him, just different, and younger or older — because how could he expect his mother to go through that sort of emotional trauma again?

_But nearly. . ._

"Must be nice," Elara spoke again, breaking him out of his thoughts and rushing him back into the Library. "I can't remember a moment where I wasn't constantly looking over my shoulder growing up." She gave a warm laugh, it echoed slightly through the isles, which, he briefly noticed, were quote isolated. "Brothers are ruthless and mean."

"Mean?" Theo laughed, confused.

"Well. . . I'm the only girl, and the youngest, they were very mean to me growing up. Always left out, always the victim of their pranks. Thank Merlin they've both moved out."

His curiosity spiked.

"Oh, so who do you live with?" One brother in France, another brother elsewhere, mother dead, she's never mentioned her father before so. . . "I just — you mentioned your mother is. . ." He trailed off, not wanting to say it, not sure how she'd react. He didn't know if he could deal with a sobbing teenage girl right at that moment.

Her brows rose high, but the rest of her features relaxed and plain. The thought that she may be a natural occlumens crossed his mind for a moment, but the only people he knew that could do that were adults over the age of forty.

"Dead?" Elara said for him. Her eyes fell down to the floor and he saw her chest rise slowly as she drew a breath. She looked back up at him, calm and collected, tone now one laced with humour. "You can say it Theo. It's not a dirty word."

"I didn't feel like being insensitive," he said quietly, sincerely, almost immediately.

"Ah. . . progress."

"In what?" he asked, not sure whether or not he should be offended,

Another laugh. How does she do that? "Melting that 'stone cold' heart of yours."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Funny."

"I know." She said proudly, raising her chin into the air.

"And to answer your question — just my dad." — Oh so who do you live with? — "It was like that before the accident anyways. Mum was always out on missions in Brazil or Spain or some other lovely country." A sigh left her lips, it was slow, as if her brain needed that time to process the reality of it. Her eyes remained fixed to the floor now, had been for a while.

"The only difference now is that she's not coming back."

There was a silence where neither spoke and let her words hang heavy in the air. After seconds which felt like minutes which bled into hours, it was broken by a scoff from Elara.

"Wow. . . that was depressing. Erm, I suppose we should start this now then, yeah? We can get extra done since you were early."

—

_"One last time before bed my little ones?"_

_The three little children, Elara, Kai, and Lorenzo, were laid down in Lorenzo's bed, Elara in the middle since she was the littlest and her two big brothers sandwiched at her sides. Their mother, Helen was perched at the side of the bed, looking down at all their bright faces. Her lips wear a deep rose shade and her cheeks scarlet from the effects of her red wine._

_"Please, mummy," they pleaded in their gentle voices._

_Her warm and loving eyes twinkled in the dim candlelight and she scooted closer, a smile gracing her face, the scent of Jasmine's becoming stronger. "Okay," she tucked them in just a little more. "Are you three going to sing with me?"_

_Nine-year-old Kai frowned."No, just mum," he grumbled._

_Their mother's giggle softened the room, as if her gentle sound could make the lamplight more golden and the fires burn warmer. And so she began to sing a small, light, airy tune._

_"Happy birthday to you. . . Happy birthday to you. . ." Helen tapped her youngest son on the nose, he grimaced, but quite openly loved it. "You look like a monkey. . ." She caressed his cheek, tracing his cheek, bridge of the nose, and eyelids. Then leaned closer, her golden hair tickling his face as she planted a soft kiss on his forehead. ". . .And you smell like one too."_

_Half-lidded, sleepy, Lorenzo hummed,"One more time, please?"_

_Her laugh was back again. An auditory hug. "Enzo my love we've sung it to you fourteen times today!" That's double your age!" she said, poking his stomach._

_Little Elara gaped, mouth open, bright eyes wide. She looked rapidly between her mother and brother. "Enzo is fourteen!?"_

_Lorenzo nudged his little sister's side, giving his own loving smile which was completely different from her mother's yet still so comforting. "No, Elly, I'm seven. Sev-en."_

_She nestled back into the sheets."Oh, sorry."_

_"Right then," Helen announced, pecking each rosy cheek. "You two snuggle Elara tight okay?" she said to the boys. "We don't want her falling out of the bed do we now?"_

_"Of course not," Kai grinned up at the woman. He wrapped his arm around Elara, and Lorenzo followed, her head now cushioned by two protective arms. "We've got her."_

_"Alright. . . Goodnight, my darlings."_

_"Night mummy."_

_The door pulled to a near-close, the light from the hallway leaking in slightly._

_Elara sighed happily. Lorenzo's birthdays were always the most fun. Kai hated surprises and the boys didn't like the same things she did. So Enzo's were always deemed the best, whether it be Muggle laser tag or a magical escape room. And even though Elara was just brushing the age of three, she enjoyed it with the help of her father._

_She turned to her brothers, smiling up at each of them, both on the edge of sleep._

_"Night Eno, night Kai."_

_"Night, Elly."_

Elara shot upright from her pillow. Her forehead was drenched with a thin layer of sweat and her cheeks were dampened with salty tears. Her chest was rising and falling in a stuttered and quick rhythm; her breaths desperate and harsh. She was sobbing hard.

She pulled back the golden drapes that hung around her four-poster and swung her legs off the bed and took to a stand.

Seconds were needed to gain balance through foggy, dark vision and a sense of unawareness, but she began her walk towards the bathroom. Planning on a quick, cold shower.

But through the darkness of the dorm, Elara had stood harshly on the one floorboard that shrieked sharply and creaked loudly. One of the girls — Hannah — had made a noise of exasperation and rolled over on her bed.

Startled and tense, Elara whipped her body around to face the general direction of her sound.

She had never expected it to happen, didn't know she could do it, it had always been her one struggle with magic, but at the action, as she twisted, hands held out and hoping to know she hadn't woken the girl, every candle in the room sparked to life. Burning orange. Flames flickering.

Wandless magic had always been a goal of hers, but every time she researched and practised and performed, she got nothing off it.

So why now?

Elara stood in the centre of the dorm, shocked, confused, alarmed, for stretched out moments that may have dipped into the sunrise. She didn't know. Didn't know what to think when she had just done that. Effortlessly. Without intent.

She raked a hand through her hair, breaths shattered and irregular now.

"Holy shit."


	12. Chapter 12

**_OCTOBER 13TH 1996_ **   
  


_She looked a little shaken that morning after her visit to the hospital wing. Bags hung around her eyes like chains on the ankles of criminals. Burdensome. Painful. The purple cut viciously into her flesh. I went to ask what happened, but I decided that I don't care that much._   
  
  


**_OCTOBER 15TH 1996_ **   
  


_She looks better than she was the other day. Much more like herself. Less shaken and gaunt-looking. More talkative (to my great annoyance) and mouthy._

_I've learnt that her favourite colour is blue_ — _periwinkle, actually. Most of her notebooks have been charmed to look the colour, and I can't help but feel like for someone like her, it has a deeper meaning than for just being 'pretty.'_  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 16TH 1996_ **   
  


_Her biggest pet peeves one, when people chew with their mouths open and two, tardiness. She really loathes tardiness. I had hoped my Pureblooded upbringing would have prevented me from doing both of these, but, well. . ._   
  
  


**_OCTOBER 18TH 1996_ **   
  


_Elara prefers sunsets over sunrises; rain over snow; quiet evenings over busy mornings; tea over coffee, and cats over dogs._

_And as it so happens I agree with all of the above. Well, other than the tea vs coffee debate, I've tried neither._   
  
  


**_OCTOBER 19TH 1996_ **   
  


_Her favourite flowers are orchids; Hagrid lets her plant and grow them in a patch beside his hut, makes sure they're well watered and get enough sunlight on her busier days. She told me how she'd take them home at the end of every school year and would offer them to her mother as a welcome home present._

_She can't do that now. I wonder who'll get them._

_Her father, probably._

_Or maybe she won't do anything with them at all._

_I wouldn't. Too depressing._   
  
  


**_OCTOBER 21ST 1996_ **   
  


_Her sense of humour is up to par. She's sarcastic yet sweet; obnoxious but never overbearing; witty without the cockiness._

_And she's a little more than alright to be around._

_But don't go thinking we best buddies now, she's still partially irritating and tiresome._   
  
  


**_OCTOBER 23RD 1996_ **   
  


Their Thursday morning Potions class with a nauseating enthusiastic and energetic Slughorn resulted in Theo doing something he knew in the long run he would surely regret; but one, he was curious, and two, it gave him something to boast about to Malfoy. Merlin knows the knob would throw a fit and it would be wonderfully satisfying to watch, especially considering Theo's near-death experience last week at Draco's hand (well, wand).

They still hadn't had that particular discussion. Theo had tried numerous times, but whenever he entered their dorm and _he_ was already in there, Malfoy would either climb into his four-poster and draw the drapes or leave entirely. The same was said for everywhere else — he would either put a wall between them, or leave.

It was infuriating as much as it was soothing, because it meant that every night he and Blaise wouldn't sit at the base of the long, glowing-green windows and smoke until their eyes were rolling in crimson and what they had insisted were wise and well thought out words — melted into one long, inaudible sentence.

On the down part though, this meant that he didn't have an excuse to exit the Dungeons and roam the upper halls of the then vacant and noiseless castle, making sure he had a cigarette between his lips, and search for a certain feisty little Hufflepuff to piss off.

Rest assured he did it anyway, and every time it was _so_ pleasing watching the way her little, freckled nose crumpled then smoothed out as she ushered him back down to his commons with a slight smirk upon her lips and two indents in her rose-kissed cheeks.

"Remember class, the potion makes the drinker think _clearer_ not _smarter_ , and —" The clock chimed, loud and reverberating, signalling midday. "— ah, seems we've come to the end of the lesson. Well then everyone, pack up, pack up."

Theo began packing his equipment away, his quills, book, ink pot, parchment and ingredients.

He wasn't focusing on much over the last hour, he didn't really care for thinking clearer — _not smarter_ — he was only really interested, no sorry, _focused on_ the head of dark brown hair up front, nodding along to whatever Slughorn was now saying.

"Lunch?"

A hand was on his shoulder, tapping once, twice. Theo looked back, brow raised with that signature soft arch, seeing that it was only Blaise who had been sitting next to him for the whole duration of the class. Funny how he forgot.

"Huh?"

Luckily, he quickly remembered what Blaise had said.

In his defence, his thoughts had been quite cloudy as of late. _Foggy_. A mess really. He had a lot on his mind; from the possibility of Draco bearing the mark, to their duel, to Tracey Davis (who would not stop brushing her breasts up against his arm as she slid into the seat next to him at meal times) and, of course, _her_.

What a complicated little thing she is.

"Oh yeah. . ." His blue eyes flashed back to the front of the class, seeing nothing but an ivory ribbon and deep, chestnut waves. "Can I meet you there?" he asked, turning back to the boy and making sure to keep his tone light and plain.

"Sure," Blaise grinned, his own eyes glancing slyly over to Astoria Greengrass, who had just passed by their classroom, chatting along with some fifth year Ravenclaw boys. "Don't take too long though," he said, paying no attention to Theo at all.

He dusted himself off and picked at the non-existent lint on his already pristine robes. "You know how Crabbe and Goyle are," he added as an afterthought, eyes glued to Astoria.

"Of course," Theo chuckled for several reasons. "They're only like it every day."

Blaise's brows shot up once in a swift motion, his lips pulled at the corners, flashing his charming set of _fake_ teeth — theo was still certain of this — and he turned on his heel, throwing a 'See you in a bit then,' over his shoulder.

And so Theo made his way over to the front of the class where he could see and hear more clearly as to what sort of exchange was going on between the student and professor.

Elara stood wearily in front of him, looking frantic, rushed, irritated, and it was amusing. Her waves cascaded down the length of her spine gracefully, contrasting the way her hazel eyes widened with every one of Slughorn's replies and her jaw clenched as she prevented herself from retorting something rude back in turn.

"I know, I know," her eyes pressed to a close as she drew a long breath and began her sentence. "But professor, look — I'd _never_ normally ask this of _any_ teacher. . . but I was really just wondering if I could have a little extension on this week's homework? See?" She presented a roll of blank parchment and solemn expression which Theo was sure was fake.

She sighed, dropping her shoulders and adding more exasperation to her tone.

"It's just planning the Winter Ball, my prefect duties, Slug Club and everything else with school is just taking up a little _too_ much of my time right now. I can one-hundred percent guarantee you though It'll _most definitely_ be handed in whenever you ask."

Slughorn nodded furiously. "Oh I'm sorry, I ramble sometimes you see. But of course, m'dear, of course! Anything for one of my brightest," he threw his arms out and onto his hips. "How's one more week?"

"Perfect, thank you professor," she beamed, demeanour changing drastically. Theo couldn't refuse the slight chuckle that left his throat.

"And since I'm here, did you settle a date for the dinner party? It's just been awhile since me or any of the other students have heard anything."

"Yes, yes, I was planning on sending the owls tonight. Dinner party is Saturday night. And yes, _yes_ I know it's so soon but as it happens I accidentally drank a vial of forgetfulness potion brewed by one of my first years and" — he raised a wrinkled finger and tapped his left temple twice — "well, you know the rest. So yes, Saturday."

Now, onto that thing Theo would regret. . .

This dinner party had been a bitter subject for him to hear ever since he had found out it was being hosted.

With the mixture of hearing it from Blaise who rambled _on_ and _on_ about how much of an honour it was and how _pleasantly_ _wonderful_ it'd look for him when he applied for a job at the ministry some time in the future, and Elara who thought aloud as to what she'd wear and talk about and whether she'd have to learn what order to use the tiny spoons and forks in — _is Slughorn even that fancy? I mean my parents hosted dinner parties all the time but never had fifty spoons out per guest_ — was driving Theo up the wall.

At first he didn't know why. It was just a dinner party, wasn't it? And with a _teacher_.

But then he'd expressed part of his curiosity to Elara about the whole ordeal and she'd told him about how he 'collected' his students rather than made connections with them, and, well, he felt insulted.

He was a _Nott_. Did the blithering idiot not know exactly how powerful his family is?

_Much more powerful than some orphan boy with a mealsey scar who came back from the dead, or the she-weasel who had about two knuts to her name. . . if that._

With two long strides forward, Theo appeared behind Elara, a little more than a head taller so he was perfectly placed in Slughorn's view. He didn't get the chance to look up before Theo inserted himself into the conversation.

"Ah, a dinner party, you say?"

If this works. . . well, _Draco's face_ , Theo thought smugly.

Slughorn visibly stiffened, shoved his hands into his pockets and straightened out his posture. Almost as if he were nervous. "Uh. . . yes m'boy," he mumbled, smiling weakly, "Selective students."

He could see Elara peering at him curiously out of the corner of his eye, her arms were folded softly over herself and a brow raised inquisitively. He couldn't tell much else of her expression, only that she wasn't showing any signs of detest or annoyance towards him.

"So only the brightest?"

Slughorn nodded, his eyes secretly — _silently_ — begging for him to leave.

It took no less than three seconds for Theo to realise, or rather, remember.

His father was a Death Eater, and the fact was just as well known as Dumbledore's _actual_ age. Add on how those Death Eaters had been relentlessly trying to recruit Slughorn for over a year, desperate to get as many Purebloods on Voldemort's side as possible.

Aside from the fact that he skived off class sometimes, and he fails to pay one hundred percent attention for the whole hour some days, Theo considered himself a good student. His grades certainly suggested it. He was right up Granger's arse with his O's and E's.

_Not literally of course._

Pettiness flushed over him.

Did he look like his father? Did he need to show his forearms everywhere he went just to prove he wasn't one of them? Has he ever uttered the words Mudblood or Blood-traitor?

Well, one time in his first year he did call Justin Finch-Fletchley a 'rutty little Mudblood arse,' but as soon as the words left his young lips he went completely pale, his skin ghostly, and something copper settled on his tongue, bitter and quite unpleasant.

"Hm. . . where's my invite, then? _If you don't mind me asking_." Theo flashed him a smile. Perceiving to be nothing but proper and perfect. "It's just I know I'm quite the _bright_ student. Second in this class if I can recall right. At least in the top three of all my others."

"Well. . . as it so happens, erm, I think we're quite full, actually," Slughorn murmurs, looking anywhere but Theo.

Elara still watches, focusing her sight solely on him.

Theo scoffed. The atmosphere around them grew tense and uncomfortable with it. "Full?" he said.

He stepped around Elara slightly, a thoughtless action, one just to make his presence more noticeable, if it wasn't already. She assisted with his silent wish by taking a step backwards, leaning herself against a table.

Theo then squared his shoulders, cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brows almost innocently, like he had no idea as to why.

_Why should I, being an extremely smart and successful student, not be invited to the cabbage patch party?_

_Right, that's it, because you're scared of my father. Well, I can assure you the man doesn't do anything without his Lordship's consent, so don't fuss on it too much, old man._

"Professor Slughorn," Theo started slowly. "Are you sure this isn't about anything else?"

Slughorn's beady-green eyes flashed anxiously.

_This man is so pathetic. Honestly. . . I'm sixteen, you're what? Ninety?_

"I think it is you know," Theo thought aloud. "And I also think that Dumbledore would find it most inequitable that you're inviting students purely based on who their people's parents are. You know we don't get to choose who our blood is don't you?"

His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he were mimicking a goldfish. He struggled, and Theo caught his eyes shifting over to a point just past his shoulder. Elara. _Gosh_.

It took several more elongated seconds, but he managed to stutter out his sentence. _Dolt_. .

"Goodness yes I know that. And, I — no. I — well. . ."

In a moment of dumbfoundedness, when he realized it would really just be in his favour to acquiesce, Slighorn sighs and says reluctantly, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have one more student. . ."

Theo looked pleased. He _was_ pleased.

An obnoxious sense of smugness had made itself at home in his features. "Excellent. Should I wear my finest robes?" he said, a grin spreading over his face, wide and open.

Slughorn simply nodded.

"Very well then, I guess I'll see you again on Saturday professor. Thanks for the invite," Theo pronounced priggishly.

When Slughorn had slumped his shoulders lazily and plodded his way out of the classroom, Theo turned to Elara who was still standing there. Her facial expression and body language hinted at something between distaste for the whole situation and the desire to double over and laugh until she ached all over.

The edge of his lips settled but the other pushed up, scrunching his one eye up, making the blue appear darker and more captivating. His lips parted a centimeter, making it seductive to many. Yet the fake smile on his pristine face made him appear all too arrogant. He gave her one look over, taking his sweet time. Trialing the line of the hem of her charcoal black school skirt that hovered above her knees, to the curve of her shoulder where her hair curled and lay, for some, begging to be pushed back. 

She didn't speak, but when he met her curious little eyes, _he_ did.

"Make sure to wear something pretty. Flattering, even. Not that it'll be hard. . ."  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 25TH 1996_ **   
  


How she wished Theo had never said those words. Those confusing, unnecessary and completely out-of-pocket words. _'Flatter yourself. Not that it'll be hard.'_ Who does he think he is? she spent the night asking herself, over and over again to nobody but the canopy of her four-poster bed, draped in amber and onyx.

She had already planned on dressing well, quite well in fact, that she scraped some of her last sickles together and brought a new dress for herself. One of soft, delicate, silk that brushed the tops of her thighs modestly in the light shade of periwinkle.

Ginny was planning on wearing a particularly revealing emerald number, and Harry his finest muggle blazer, so who else wasn't planning on presenting themselves nicely?

 _Well, maybe Hermione,_ her brain retorted humorously.

But now. . . n _ow_ Theo would think she was listening to him. Cared about his opinion, even. The one thing she's never actually thought of other than maybe that one time in the Three Broomsticks when she was hinting for a compliment just to boost her ego.

Her mind reeled for hours, panicking, — _Should I wear something different to what I had planned? Will he think I'm trying to impress him? Was he checking me out when he said that? Seemed like it. No_ —probably a little too much as she concluded the next morning.

To make a long story short: after hours and hours of back and forth arguments with herself, Elara decides: _fuck it,_ and wears the dress despite what Theo — being the arrogant, egotistical dick that he is — might seem to think.

—

"A toast!"

Slughorn stood from the table, golden goblet raised in his aged hand to the students seated before him, which, in addition to Elara, Hermione, Harry and Theo's friend Blaise Zabini, include Marcus Belby, Neville Longbottom, Cormac McLaggen, and the Slytherin Twins. Two seats however remain unoccupied; one between herself and Blaise, and another between Marcus and Harry. A distinctive crystal hourglass sits in the centre of the table.

Theo has yet to arrive, she realises easily from her first of many glances around the room, and so does Ginny Weasley.

Elara prays silently to the gods and wizards before her as she takes plote sips from her goblet that Ginny arrives first and comes to occupy the seat beside her instead of Theo, who would surely want to sit nearer his friend and housemate instead of his blonde friend's enemy.

"To Hogwarts' best and brightest!"

"Here, here!" shouted Cormac McLaggen — wearing a smart, scarlet jumper and a wide, toothy smile — above the sounds of the goblets clinking together.

Elara placed her goblet down onto the table, glanced up and smiled briefly at Hermione who was seated opposite her, she then picked up her spoon between her fingers for their first course when the door behind her opened with a loud, thundering _thud_.

Her mind races to one word, or rather, name: _Ginny, Ginny, Ginny._ _Please for the love of Merlin be Ginny,_ she begs, eyes closed, fist clenched tightly around the silverware.

But it isn't. Of course it isn't. It's Theo, and he's strolling in lazily, like he's just woken from a deep, accidental sleep, wearing smart, but not overbearing, dress robes of deep, navy blue. And all the hope she possessed was lost in an instant, like a cold bucket of flesh-biting, icy water has been dunked over her, as he pulls out the seat to her left and sits himself down in it.

Theo's face moved a little too slowly as he took in the surroundings before him. Then he grinned. As he did so the temperature of the room fell a little. It was a cheshire grin of sorts, the kind that was so wide it was more as if he wanted to eat everyone rather than say hello.

At his arrival, the new Potions master's previous anxiety continued from that moment on to simmer below his smiles, his actions, his ridiculous jokes. It is there for the duration of the night like over- caffeination but without the option not to drink a cup. So there he is, all amped up with no escape from the son of a Death Eater, who, as of now, could be presumed innocent.

"My apologies, professor," Theo addressed politely. " Professor Flitwick wanted a quick word as I passed him in the halls. Please," he motioned to the students staring him down with mixed looks around the table, "continue."

Elara kept her gaze down to the Pumpkin soup placed in front of her, seasoned and topped with Pepper and Cilantro.

She hears his body shift further from hers. "Blaise," he speaks, obviously to the Slytherin beside him suited up in rich ebony robes.

"Nott," Elara greeted plainly, remaining nonchalant. She would have been comfortable and friendly with him if not for his odd comment a few days prior, a comment that now, sitting there, still befuddled her. "May I ask why you're sitting there?"

Theo glanced right, the corners of his lips fighting a smile, his eyebrows slightly raised. Elara remained looking away, unaware of the mischievous look of his spread. Before she can help it, she strengthens her resolve to be aloof, and looks up at him, still towering over her even though seated.

"Isn't it obvious?" he says calmly, hidden meanings soaking through his words; their syllables.

"Hardly," Elara scoffed, turning attention to her right where Neville is seated and worrying about which spoon to use.

Beside her, Theo mumbles, "Well then. . . "

—

"So tell me, Cormac," Slughorn asked abruptly over the _clanging_ and _clinking_ of spoons against dessert bowls. "See much of your Uncle Tiberius these days?"

From beneath her lashes which were just lowered and focusing boredly onto her ice cream, Elara saw Cormac straighten and buff out his chest with pride and arrogance. She blamed her close proximity with Theo during the school year so far for easily noticing those traits.

"Yes, sir," he said ever-so politely.

Elara still felt particularly uncomfortable as well as pissed off with him from that one evening in the library where Theo of all people came to her rescue. He's made no moves or inappropriate comments since, which she's of course thankful for, but Elara's come to sense that his sights' now set elsewhere — Hermione. It's a good thing, she thinks, that the girl has two male best friends to watch over her if need be. Ron, with his broad shoulders and intimidating height and loyalty to his friends, and Harry with his. . . . erm. . . _famousness_.

"In fact, I'm meant to go hunting with him and the Minister for Magic over holiday."

_And I'm being awarded an Order Of Merlin First Class award for sitting here on my arse and listening to you chat complete and utter bullshit, while resisting the urge to hex you until your balls cease to exist, but you don't see me bragging._

"Well," the Potions master choked out with excitement. "Be sure to give them both my best." He then turned to Marcus Belby, a seventh year Ravenclaw boy with a very clear fondness for dessert. "What about your uncle, Belby? Working on anything new?" he said, but then quickly added to the other students gathered around the circular, hardwood table, "For those of you who don't know, Marcus' uncle invented the Wolfsbane Potion."

_Ah, thanks for that, would have never realised if not._

"Dunno," Marcus replied, talking while not once looking up from his spoon. "He and me dad don't get on. Probably because Dad thinks potions are rubbish. Says the only potion worth having. . . is a stiff one at the end of the day."

Slughorn hummed, eyeing the boy with distaste. His beady eyes then trailed to the opposite side of the table, to Elara.

"And you, Miss Hunt? You've been quite quiet."

_Because this has turned out to be the most boring shit show in all of the wizarding world._

"What is it your family does in the Muggle world?" She tried to ignore the way the word 'muggle' slipped from his tongue. Prejudice or not, the man had inner conflicts, obviously. "Did your father pursue his career in curse-breaking like he planned? Not the smartest boy, but he was particularly talented with his Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Elara settled her desert spoon down, dividing her full attention to the conversation, and glanced up to see everyone looking solely at her. She held her hands in her lap, tracing the length of her fingers, the lines of her palm and running the pads softly over the bumps of her knuckle. It was something she had always done to ease whatever nerves became present while in someone's company. 

"Um, no. Unfortunately not," she said ignoring the disagreeable gaze she was receiving from the Slytherin names, who she didn not yet know the names of, even though she was pretty sure introductions had been made at the beginning.

"He wanted to be closer to home; to me and my brothers, so he opened up a shop in the town we live in. It's quite a beautiful little place."

Slughorn hummed politely, though it didn't take an idiot to observe that he seemed quite disappointed, though really, what did he expect? Has he even heard the name 'Elijah Hunt' since her father's school days?

"Ah, simple career," he said, adding a light laughter to his words. "I don't blame him, his school days were quite hectic, being the clumsy little troublemaker that he was. And what of your mother?"

From the other side of the room, Harry and Hermione's eyes doubled in size. Umber and Emerald specks flicking with deep empathy. Neville's spoon paused mid-air on the way to his lips which were now frozen to a part.

A sudden anxiety came as an electrical storm to her brain that, quite honestly, was painful. All the eyes on her. . . she couldn't think. The pain now throbbing in her head to a hectic rhythm differed from a headache, and it felt the same as intense sorrow, perhaps as a sort of frozen panic with nowhere to go. So though Elara appears calm on the outside — minus the shaking of her left thigh, so much so it feet almost as a rough vibration — her hazel eyes were saying far more than "Please don't ask me that," they were saying that her soul is in such unbearable pain. It's one thing her friends, who were there to witness the murder ask, but for a professor, _a new one at that?_ No.

"My — My, erm, my. . ."

Elara felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in her abdomen. Tension grew in her face and limbs — her now rapidly shaking thigh beneath the table. Her breathing became more brisk, more shallow.

She tried again, " Sorry, I — my. . ." her heart raced faster. And though her thoughts were accelerating inside her head, she still somehow became aware of his hand placed atop her thigh, silver sitting on the surface, cold; pads of fingertips holding tight.

A new rush of calm anchored her down, but she didn't dare look at him, thank him, anything, not just yet. Instead, in order to retrieve herself, she rushed out the words that only fifteen seconds ago were lodged in her throat.

"I'm sorry. It's just — my mother — she passed this past June." She chanced a look around the room, and caught Harry staring perplexingly at Theo with narrowed eyes, but didn't ponder on it for too long.

"She was an auror though, a good one at that," Elara added brusquely.

"Oh I'm sorry dear," he said sympathetically. "So sorry, uh, ah, ah, ah," he scoured the table, searching for a quick change of subject. That's where his eyes landed on the curly-haired, brunette Slytherin, who's own eyes were still intently on Elara, as well as his hand upon her thigh. She did not know what to think of it. Her main focus was slowing her breaths, which still has yet to ease up.

"Mr Nott, do any relatives of yours do anything interesting as well? Or you for that matter?"

 _Is he stupid? I mean, Theo would never say anything but_ really?

Theo removed his hand from her thigh, not anymore shaking. His hands raised to the table, clasped together, and he twisted a signet ring on his right thumb. A minute passed before he spoke, speaking with an idle tone.

"You're asking about my relatives?" He didn't seek an answer, not needing to. He continued. "Okay, well, no aunts and uncles, no grandparents, no cousins, no nothing really. Dad owns a company doing merlin-knows-what and my mother is also dead."

_Wh — why hadn't he ever mentioned anything?_

As Slughorn nodded with nothing to say, the door groaned, and everyone turned in their seats save for Elara, who was still pondering on the fact that she related with Theo on another level, beyond Dementors or a mutual appreciation for the art of sarcasm. Though maybe his situation was different, the fact still remained, and she held a new sort of fondness for the Slytherin on an empathetic level

"Miss Weasley! Come in, come in."

"Sorry, I'm not ordinarily late," the redhead said in a small voice which was quite unusual for her usual feisty, confident and energetic self.

"No matter. You'll be just in time for dessert. That is — if Belby leaves you any," Slughorn chuckled, holding his swollen stomach.

Ginny falters as she makes her way over to her seat, eyes red, uncharastically flustered.


	13. Chapter 13

**_OCTOBER 25TH 1996_ **   
  


"A pleasure to have had you here tonight, m'dear. Sleep well."

Slughorn beamed down at her — a running theme that night, and not just to her, to everyone. His wrinkled hand was outstretched, a singular gold band upon his right thumb glimmered under the dim, burnt orange lighting of the room. Politely, her hand met his between them.

But she flinched and stumbled back at the first brush of flesh against flesh.

A violent, burning pain shot through her limb. Coiling itself wickedly around her muscles, veins and bones. Sizzling. Scraping. Agonising. Her skin was on fire; head throbbing; breaths once again shattered.

And her stomach had dropped.

It was a similar feeling to that of hearing a loved one had passed; that the person you're in love with was seen romantically embracing another; that a Dark Lord had risen once more.

For a second— maybe even two, Elara felt hollow. It was as if she were dreading something that was inexorable. She felt helpless.

She cradled her hand (appearing to anyone looking to be completely intact) close to her rapidly rising chest and looked up with eyes-blow wide. More than anything, she was mortified at her actions. _God,_ the voice inside her head scoffed, _What must I look like?_

"I — I'm sorry. Sudden cramp." The lie sounded weak, stumbling from her lips. She cringed. "Thank you for having me, professor."

Elara left the room after the string of other students, her heels clicked against the cobblestone and carried her only a few feet when she stopped. Behind her, Theo was shaking Slughorn's hand — though neither looked happy about it.

She waited for him.

He stalked through the threshold with his hands stuffed into his robe pockets, chin held high and a peculiarly blank expression upon his face. Her eyes lingered for a moment as she thought, watching him rake a hand through his coffee curls and wiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

_What was that?_ She wanted to scream in confusion. _Why didn't you ever mention your mother when I mentioned mine? Why did you help me? Did you know what was going to happen?_

Of course, none of those sentences ever left the pit they had buried at the back of her throat.

"Theo?" she said — simply, innocently, unsure — as she tapped him on the shoulder. The corridor had quickly cleared out, and the only noise was the howling of the wind beyond the stained glass windows and the occasional hoot of a night owl. 

Something of a hum vibrated in his throat as he shifted to face her. Elara caught the action slightly by the soft quiver of his Adam's apple.

"I seem to remember asking you to call me Nott." He was grinning arrogantly, but his features seemed to soften as he took in the hesitant — no, _embarrassed_ look that had settled deep into her features. His next words were slower, laced with mild wonder. "I guess I'll make an exception because of that look on your face. Er — what's up?"

Her left arm reached up and Elara slid her hand around and onto the surface of the nape of her neck. There, she pressed the pads of her fingers and the heel of her palm into the tendons that lie beneath her skin.

Hazel eyes flickered right; down to the floor where she scuffed her slight heel against the cobblestone; out of the window where the emerald trees of the forbidden forest swayed. . . _then_ back at him. Her hand dropped lazily at her side.

"I just wanted to say thank you. For what you did in there. It may not have looked like a lot from your perspective but if you hadn't —" She broke off as a blush etched itself into the skin of her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she shortly said,"Well, things would have gotten a lot worse."

Theo smiled. It was soft and warm, one you'd receive from a friend. He was also looking pleased, a light sense of happiness had made itself at home in his eyes.

And when she should feel happy, relieved and elevated, her heart drops a little with guilt.

Guilt for not knowing. Never asking. So she says, "And. . . I'm sorry about your mother."

Quickly, he stiffens, his muscles go rigid. But then even quicker, it fades.

"S'fine," he mumbled.

Silence settled between them. Neither knows what to say. Neither knows what _would_ be the right thing to say after that.

Elara hadn't wanted to come across so blunt _(had I been blunt or am I just imagining it because I'm overthinking?_ ), but she wanted him to know she was sorry, as she knew the pain far too well herself. And also, her thoughts throughout the night kept trailing off to why, when and how he coped, or _is coping_. She felt guilty, but she was curious; Theo hardly spoke volumes about himself unless it was in a haughty manner.

"Does it happen a lot?" he asks abruptly. So much so she flinched slightly in her slight daze. At the look upon her, he speaks — again, it's softer. "The panic attacks."

"That would have been my forth one."

She looks off at the side. Embarrassment had sunk deeper, wrapping around her slender throat and restricting her speech.

"A-Amber or Susan are usually always with me so it's rare."

_They're the only people that know. I mean. . . Merlin forbid anyone else knew._

Nothing else is said between the two; nothing until Theo removes his hand from his pocket, lifts his wrist and glances at a rather peculiar wizarding wrist watch which reverabtes it's tick's off of the stone walls. He stalks past her, but pauses and stands just three feet away and jerks his head in the direction of the darkened, deserted hallway. "C'mon," he says so quietly it could have been a whisper. "We don't want to get points docked now do we?"

It takes a short amount of time to realise the hallways he's backing into leads to the warm, Hufflepuff basement. Not the icy, Slytherin dungeons.

Her brow raises softly; she didn't know it was noticeable enough for him to stop moving completely.

"You're walking me back to the Hufflepuff commons?" Elara says, eyeing him dubiously. She's unsure about the kind gesture.

"Of course," he replies almost immediately.

She observes that there's no hidden agenda. It's simply a short stroll with a. . . friend? Maybe. It's too soon to call him that. He's still annoying, arrogant and nosey in her eyes. Qualities friends do not possess.

_Well then what's Amber?_ that pestering voice in her head asks.

Shut it.

Not five minutes later, when they've passed many snoring portraits, walked under moonlight that shone through the glassy windows and walked down all of three steps, Elara decides she doesn't like the silence they've grown comfortable in.

"You know," she mused, "maybe you are a gentleman, but you just have a weird way of showing it."

"Oh don't get confused," he chuckled, glancing over to her with the right side of his lips raised in that devilish smirk he wears so well. "We've been around each other a lot lately and I fear if something happened to you on your journey back, everyone would point the blame at me and all due to our suspicious encounters"

"Suspicious encounters?"

"Well, we only ever meet at the back of the library." His shoulders raised in action of a lazy shrug "Pretty suspicious to me."

"We've met elsewhere. Hogsmeade, the Gryffindor table," she motions around them, as if it were obvious, "the halls."

There was a brief pause filled with static silence.

"You mean the halls where I did this?"

And his hand was out and at her throat again, latched around in an opposite way to as if it were his lifeline. He did it as if it were a chore. A chore that he completed with a knowing look and sultry eyes.

Theo was beside her but his fingers still brushed the nape of her neck and his thumb sat on her opposing pulse point. He had large hands and consumed her in such a vulnerable way.

She didn't feel vulnerable, though.

"Bold move."

Elara reaches out and pulls him closer. Hand on his throat, squeezing in a way that made her feel as if she had all the control; all the power.

They're practically nose to nose since she's pulled him down to her height. He's wearing a small look of surprise. Lips parted, eyes heavy, brow arched. She's opted for a suggestive glare, daring him to say something.

He doesn't speak, but his hand moves, closes around her wrist and moves her from him all too easily.

"Is this a kink you have or something?" Her head cocks to the side and her eyes flicker down to his hand. "Choking?" She doesn't let him reply. "If so I know a girl in the dorm next to mine — loud speaker really — who enjoys that sort of —"

She was cut of sharply.

Theo's hand pulled away from her neck — leaving the area oddly cold — and shot up to cover her lips. In the process he backed them into an alcove. Her back against the wall and him pressed close against her with his other hand holding a firm grip on the curve of her hip.

"Sh, voices," he whispered gently, peering his head around the wall. The position allowed her to see that the first four or so buttons of his oxford white were undone and — _no_.

Theo had a fucking snake tattoo on his chest.

The head and the start of the inky curve that's it's body was peeking through, biting at his collarbone and mocking her flushed face completely.

Annoyed with herself, she choked out the first thing she could think of that would contrast the blush upon her cheeks.

"Yeah, right. You're just enjoying this for some odd, twisted reason. Merlin knows why. I'm just as irritating to you as much as you are to me."

His head snapped back to her, blue eyes piercing into her's. ' _Shut the fuck up,_ ' he mouthed, earnestly.

He was right of course, there _were_ voices. One, sluggish, slow and deep, the other hushed, husky and impatient.

"I'm beginning to grow impatient with you, Mr Malfoy. It's time for explanations. You need to tell me the reason why Mr Nott was so curious about your private affairs the other week. You mentioned he cornered you after _someone_ attacked Miss Bell?"

_Curious?_

Theo glanced back at her, his lips moving to say ' _Snape and Malfoy_.'

Elara rolled her eyes. ' _Obviously_.'

"I already told you. He wasn't curious, he was just being the dick and looking to bug me. Saying I'm gonna end up like my father. The usual. Now piss off," Draco spat. Elara could hear footsteps, but as Snape spoke again, they stopped.

"So why slice him open? Let him bleed so much?"

"He insulted me and my father. I have a temper. Add the two together, go on, you're smart aren't you?"

"That's no excuse. The Weasley boys all have raging tempers the size of their mother but you don't see them nearly killing any of their fellow classmates, do you?" Snape asked, lightly.

Theo released a little chuckle. Elara kicked him in the shin, earning herself a death glare.

"Whatever, just get off my case. I'm not expelled so why try and make a big deal out of this? Give me fake motives and try to get me to own up to them?"

The potions master's voice was dropped to a harsh snarl. "Give it a rest. You make a terrible liar. As for the rest. . . I don't think you understand. It's _imperative_ that you do not let anyone, under any circumstance, find out what you're up to. You must go to better lengths to conceal this secret. Better lengths to not let those closest to you grow curious or suspicious."

"Well I know for certain I didn't have anything to do with that Bell girl's accident. I'm not a Death Eater and I most certainly am not doing anything worthy of suspicion. Theo was just bored."

"That is also a lie."

"Fuck off."

"We'll speak again tomorrow when you've got a clearer mind."

And with that, Snape carried himself — presumably — back to his office, and once his footsteps had fully faded, Elara had her hands out at Theo's chest and harshly shoved him away from her.

"What on _earth_ were they on about?" she spat. "What were you so curious about?"

His eyes barely moved from the place she assumed Snape and Draco once were, and only twice did they — now heavier and blinking rapidly — flicker down to her. This agitated Elara more.

"It's nothing, Hunt.," he said in a gentle voice, shaking his head dismissively and taking a few steps forward. He placed his hand around her upper arm, directing her out of the alcove. "C'mon we should hurry up."

"No." She pulled herself from his hold, putting space between them.

"Tell me. I mean. . . you should see your face."

He should have. It was concerning. His cheeks were heated; lips were broken from being stuck between his teeth, and his blue eyes were blown wide, making the purple rings around them more prominent.

"My face is fine," he says sternly, through gritted teeth. "Now, it's late, let's go."

Theo reaches out for her arm again but she dodges# his grasp. "No," she says, and his face turns beet red in what she assumes is anger.

"We need to go and see Dumbledore about this. Draco obviously did that _thing_ to Katie and Snape knows about it but isn't doing anything." Elara pauses as she's filled slowly to the glass rim with dread and fear. She hopes Theo can't sense it. She's trying to be stern and make him see reason, after all, and it's clear he's not the type to react to someone else's fear.

"If anything, Theo. . ." she starts slowly, "Snape's _encouraging_ him."

He lets the cold rush of anger consume him, and suddenly his soft blue eyes are harsh and cruel.

"Leave it alone. It's none of our business."

Elara tries a softer approach. Letting her tone drop along with her bright eyes. "Theo, you can't just dismiss this. They said you were curious. And I know Snape's right because even though you might be annoying as fuck" — she lets out a breath of a laugh there — "I highly doubt you'd ever provoke Draco into doing what he did to you."

She waits for his reaction. A shift in his features. But there isn't one. He continues to glare down at her, with his fists clenched at his sides and his lungs contracting quicker and quicker.

And then she's moving. Stepping away from him and taking determined steps down the hallway, listening to the click of her heels to distract her from the anxiety of Theo. _Will he leave? Will he come with me? Will he berate me? Shout at me? Force me to stay?_

As she's walking, thinking he might have just left, decides she's pretty sure that's so, an odd mist suppounds her. It's faint, like the soft sheen of magic, glistening for a moment before evaporating into the candlelight — yes, it's that.

She turns, and he's there, wand drawn. He's cast a silencing charm around them, perhaps a notice-me-not, too.

"Listen to me right fucking now," he practically growls his voice is that deep and husky. "Neither me or you, or me and you together, are going to tell Dumbledore about this, okay?" His head tilts to the side as he views her. It takes Elara a while to realise he's moving closer. "You don't need to get yourself roped into something like this and neither do I. Dumbledore knows everything — _wise old git_ — I'm sure he'll come to find this out by himself. Hell, I'd be surprised if he didn't already know."

As she frowns up at him, face twisted in frustration, she already knows the answer to her next question.

"You're not serious?"

They're closer.Always so close. Nose to nose, eyes to eyes, lips to lips. But he doesn't look inviting. None of him does. 

"I am deadly fucking serious," he breathes. And the action moves a stray strand of hair from her face. "And you're going to do as I say, aren't you?"

"You can't make me do _anything_."

"Oh really?"

Elara crosses her arms firmly over herself.

"I'm my own person."

Theo scoffs and a twisted self-serving smile appears at his lips. "Do you happen to remember what you said when I told you to stop fucking pretending? Huh? What the fuck did you say in response to that? _Okay_. You said okay. So it sounds like I actually _can_ make you do whatever I want."

Elara ignores him, carries on with her original plan that is to just go.

"Oi!"

She rolls her eyes, pissed that he can't see.

"You're not telling a _soul_ what we heard out here."

_Ignore, ignore, ignore._

"Are you listening?"

_No._

"You're not speaking to Dumbledore. I won't let you."

Elara knows she shouldn't reply. She knows that it'd be best to carry on with how she's handling the situation so far. But the urge is too much. Her tongue hurts from where it's been abused between her teeth and her head is _pounding_.

"Really?" She shouts, forgetting that she's long broken through the barrier of the silencing charm. "Because right now it looks like I'm walking in the direction of his office. You have no control over me. You're not my father, brother, friend, or boyfriend for that matter — not that he'd have the power to tell me to do anything."

_And now that that's out of my system. . ._

"Stop walking."

_. . . Back to ignoring._

"For the last time, listen to me —"

_Now where's his office?_

Elara went to turn a corner, but was pulled back and spun on her heel. Theo's there, against her chest, and his hands are tightly wrapped around her upper arms. _Bruises_. It's all that runs through her mind. _It hurts and he's going to leave bruises_. His rings are leaving dents. _It hurts._

"Get off me, Theo." She struggles against him but he's got a strong hold on her.

"— you're not telling _anyone_ _anything_ , and you'll do good not to question that because I know more than you —"

She wriggles and tries to shove him, but he keeps her arms tight to her sides. She could look away if she wanted, close her eyes and ignore but now she needs to let him see she's scared and he's hurting her.

Her voice is softer now. "I said get off me."

"— the things going on around us as of now can't ever involve you. You can't know about, question, or learn anything of it —"

"Theo can you please let go."

"— You're too pure for this —"

She winces when he shakes her. "You're squeezing my arms too tight."

"— I'll handle it, you don't need to worry."

When it gets too much, Elara feels it. It ran warm tingles below the surface of her skin and sent bright sparks to ignite at her fingertips. Her magic was helping her. Lifting weights from her shoulders and easing the knots in her neck, relaxing her mind.

She didn't realise her eyes were closed until they fluttered open.

Theo was on the other side of the hall, sunken to the floor and holding his side. She hoped for a moment that he had broken a rib, but she's not that cruel.

She does however, expect a very meaningful and sweet apology within the week.

Her last glance at him is blank, as is her words.

"I'll walk myself back."

—

Later on, bewildered and irate due to the events of the evening, after several tosses, turns and sighs, sleep eventually pooled at Elara's eyelids and her dreams took over. Lately though, they came to haunt her in ways that made her brain ache and her temples throb.

_An hourglass was tapped, sending off a light, ringing vibration around the room._

_"You don't want to be caught out of bed after hours," an unclear figure with an aged voice called out._

_The image strained itself. Blurring. Focusing and unfocusing. Zooming in and out on certain details. Spiralling. Echoing. A riddle to solve courtesy of her own mind._

_"I couldn't think of anyone else to go to. . . "_

_A young man, she thinks. He's wearing school robes. . . maybe._

_"The other professors, well, they're not like you. . . might misunderstand."_

_The less clear figure, the fuzzy, aged one, hummed with what seemed to be pride in himself. "Go on," he urged._

_". . . restricted section. . . read something. . . rare bit of magic. . . illuminate me. . ."_

_The atmosphere changed instantly._

_"I beg your pardon!? — know anything about such things! — wouldn't tell you— get out of here at once!"_

Like most mornings now, Elara woke in a cold sweat, shaking inexorably, head pounding. She wondered what it all meant, and if perhaps she should tell someone. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 26TH 1996_ **   
  


He didn't leave any bruises.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 27TH 1996_ **   
  


He apologised.

She accepted.

It didn't change the fact though that it was most definitely all his fault. The dreams, the wandless magic, the days where she feels weak and unnaturally ill. It's all him. After all, that's when everything started wasn't it? When he noticed her.  
  
  


**_OCTOBER 30TH 1996_ **   
  


It took all of five days.

Five days of nothing but watching every little thing Draco Malfoy does in his day-to-day life before she decides she _needs_ to see Dumbledore. She's sure of it.

In the first few days however, she was seriously questioning things. Asking herself if perhaps Theo was right. Maybe she should just stay out of it. Maybe she should mind her own business, and fuck off.

But no.

That's not who Elara is.

At least not on the inside.

This is the good girl persona talking, and this time the real her agrees.

Elara made two mistakes though. Her first: she never listened to Harry (who gave her the location of the Headmaster's office) and scheduled an appointment with Dumbledore like all students should, but instead blurted out the password (also given by Harry) and barged her way in unanounced. Later on, she'd blame her rudeness on the fact that today and the last had been the worst. She hasn't slept, ate, relaxed, or even been able to think without every muscle, bone and organ in her body aching so much she's forced to stay in bed and skip her classes for the day.

Her second mistake she'll come to realise once she's left.

So with the password from Harry slipping from her tongue, and the determination to put an end to all this nonsense, Elara ascended the winding, stone staircase and rapped thrice on the oaken double door. When no voice called out signalling a confirmation for her entry, she turned the brass handle, pushed the doors wide open and strode in herself.

Looking around at a first glance, Elara really couldn't believe how in her six years at this school, she had never caught a glimpse of what the inside of their Headmaster's office looked like. And it looked interesting, that much was sure.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames — clearly they weren't early risers. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, where behind it, sat a tranquil-looking Dumbledore.

Her hazel eyes widened in horror, and her lips rushed for an excuse for her lack of poor manners. She really should have thought this through.

"Headmaster I'm sorry for the intrusion —"

A deeply wrinkled hand raised in the air, cutting her off, and, for the slightest moment, Elara thought his fingertips had been dipped in soot — thought them to be dripping in dull, molten silver. But of course, it was a figment of her tampered imagination.

"Miss Hunt," he hummed lightly. "Do not worry. I've been expecting you actually. Had a sense you'd be needing an audience with me."

_You know sometimes I wonder if_ The Prophet _was right when they were publishing that 'nonsense' about Dumbledore being addled in the brain._

"You — okay."

The Headmaster produced his wand from one of the pockets of his midnight blue robe and swirled it gracefully through the air conjuring up a plush, scarlet armchair. He then motioned for her to take a seat in it, and once sat, a large bowl of Muggle sweets was being pushed towards her.

"Sherbet Lemon?"

"No, thank you."

Dumbledore simply smiled and nodded, then leant back in his throne-like chair clasping his hands together in his lap.

"It's alright to indulge sometimes, you know," he reached a hand out and plucked a Sherbert Lemon from the bowl and plopped it into his mouth. "Even in the smallest, _sweetest_ things that may seem pointless and worth no time to someone like you."

She felt surprised at the offence she had taken to that.

"Someone like me?" Elara repeated back to the man.

An incline of the head. "Yes."

_Just get straight to the point. You'll be here all year if you get offended at something a one hundred and fifty year old man says._

Elara wanted to, but she knew better in that moment than to cast her eyes downwards to the floor. It would have presented weakness, made him doubt her information, made her seem untrustworthy. She needed to be sure and stern if she wanted to be taken seriously.

"Well. . ." But how does one put this? "I actually came here to talk about — well. . ." She sighed a deep sigh and shook her head at her stupidity. Professors wanted the truth and nothing but the truth all the time in situations like this, and she's a _Prefect_ , this is her _job_.

"I hate to sound so much like a tattle-tale but I overheard a conversation between Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy the other night. And what they were discussing seemed like something I thought you ought to know."

His white brow raised knowingly, his blue eyes twinkled. "Yet you considered this visit for a few days. Why?"

"Erm — personal issues. Just —" she sliced her hand through the air dismissively, not wanting to approach that subject just yet. First it was Snape and Malfoy, _then_ the Dreams — if she still felt up to sharing. Elaea hadn't even told Amber yet. "it's not important."

"Alright. So, this conversation?"

Her face crumpled as she raced through the memories of that night in the hallway. Hushed voices and threatening words. _That is also a lie._ Theo telling her not to go to Dumbledore. . .

"It was confusing but quite incriminating."

She dove into that night. Telling it as simply as possible; almost as if she were presenting the situation to a school child, building it up and guiding them through it. It felt necessary. This way nothing could be twisted.

"So as you already know Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy got into a heated duel the other week, and I have the absolute _certainty_ that Professor Snape seemed to think the duel began as a result of Theo's suspicion about something and the questions that followed. Questions that — _according to Snape_ — he should never be asking."

A nervous breath was pulled from her lungs. Her posture straightened.

"Then, Snape was telling Draco that it was _imperative_ that nobody else grow suspicious or curious, and that Theo leaves the situation well alone."

All the while she spoke, Dumbledore listened intensively, giving all his attention. At her first break for breath, he leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his desk, keeping his hands clasped together and resting his chin on his knuckles.

"And do you happen to know anything about this situation?"

She shrugged half-heartedly. Her body language showed she was unsure. That needed to stop. "Only from what I heard next. Snape then said flat out that Draco was lying when he said he didn't curse Katie Bell, and that he wasn't a —"

Elara broke off, staring straight forward at Dumbledore who seemed eager to hear her next two words. She though, had an inkling of sorts that he already knew what she was about to say, but that fact didn't match up with _his_ next words. . .

"A what?

. . . And therefore she presented no hesitation this time. No pauses. No unsureness No fear of the possibility of it all.

"A Death Eater."

"And what do you think of the duel between Mr Nott and Mr Malfoy? What do you think they spoke about?"

Elara sighed, looking off to the side, catching the sight of the Sorting Hat briefly before continuing.

_Stupid fucking hat._ She hated it.

"I think they were discussing just that. In my mind, Theo was questioning Draco on what happened to Katie and if he happened to know anything about it because he — _Theo that is_ — found out, or maybe even _saw_ something that made Draco look incredibly guilty."

She raised her chin higher in the air. Another thing that felt necessary under her Headmaster's burning gaze. He looked delighted as he practically bathed in all this information.

Even if he might have known the water's temperature. Scalding hot.

"Then, he tied this to the idea that Draco may be a Death Eater and that that's why he cursed Katie."

The circular room stilled for a few moments with Dumbledore pouring over her news, filing it into his brain and slotting it into place with all of his other documents upon documents of knowledge on the war.

After what seemed like an hour at the least, his chair creaked under his weight as he shifted. He hummed lightly again, coming to a conclusion.

"I see. . . Well, thank you Elara, for keeping a vigilant eye out. You're quite observant — that's a useful trait to have during these times."

He smiled warmly at her, his half-moon spectacles glimmering under the light fixtures and the burning flame under Fawkes the Phoenix—

"But I'm afraid your visit was unnecessary."

She nearly choked on the oxygen circling her.

"I'm sorry?"

A short scoff shot out from the base of her throat. Was he just going to brush this off? Could he comprehend what this was about? What could this mean? Her voice was cracked, disappointed and stunned when she spoke.

"Headmaster —"

"Is there anything else?"

He smiled again like it was supposed to make everything better.

She wanted to fight, but with Theo dismissing it, now Dumbledore, it seemed almost pointless.

In front of her, the white-bearded man seemed unfazed at his decision. His posture was high and chest puffed out in what seemed like confidence.

"If there happens to be something going on, rest assured I will know," he assured her upon seeing the pure look of horror placed on her features.

His hand clapped together sharply between them in a defaming clap. "Now, isn't it lunchtime?" he beamed. It was hardly breakfast time. "I hear the blueberry muffins are out today."

All Elara wanted now was to be rid of the office. Of him. If Dumbledore wouldn't listen to something that could be proved through her memories and potions like veritaserum, how was he supposed to believe her about her dreams and help her find a solution to stopping them? Surely they couldn't be natural or common. How many people woke up in a cold sweat, heaving at their bedside and immobile for what would seem hours?

A thought crossed her mind just as she was thanking Dumbledore for letting her talk, because he didn't actually listen, did he?

Perhaps she could speak to Harry? She knew she wasn't possessed or sharing a mind with Voldemort, but the pain suggested something similar to that of Harry's scar.

A false smile pressed against her lips as she rose and made for the door. Harry was her next Hope and determination for the day. She was positive he'd help with the dreams.

Elara fingers brushed the handle when Dumbledore's voice called out again, only it was smooth and warm and unnaturally calm.

"Oh, and Elara?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Please come to me if you have any more of those pesky little dreams —"

_No. How could he possibly know?_

Panic blooms in her chest. Her face twitches in confusion; forehead creases as her brows knit together; nails scrape for the door handle.

"— they seem to me taking quite a large toll on your well being."

She smiles and nods her head. Her head which is throbbing again. Pearly drops of sweat slide down her temple. Her clothes grasp desperately to the skin of her chest. Suffocating her. She's nauseous. Might throw up —

Elara strides out of the oaken door, hurries down the stone steps and past the statues of the Gargoyles before she can embarrass herself further.

_What a complete and utter waste of time,_ she scalded herself.

She raised her palm and pressed against her trembling lips, forcing the bile to stay down just a little longer. At least until she can find a bathroom, empty her stomach and freshen herself up. Her other quivering hand laid flat against her stomach, stroking small circles in the hope that it'd calms her. Helen — her mother — used to use the technique on her when she was sick as a child.

A voice makes her stop dead in her tracks.

"Aha! There's the little minx."

It's Theo. Always Theo.

She turns and as she does he begins his walk to her. His strised are long, smirk is on and arms are out gesturing around them — gesturing around _her_. He makes Elara the centre of attention. If it were anyone else, and their surroundings were different, she'd be flattered.

"What the fuck is this?" he asked in a small voice. It was neither threatening nor accusatory.

"What does it look like?" she replied weakly, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes snapped to him. "Hold on. . . were you waiting for me?" No, nevermind. Stalking me more like it."

"Hardly," he scored with narrowed eyes. "I was actually asking around for you like I do every day every day to make sure you're not doing something completely stupid —"

Her brow rose in a perfect curve at this. She didn't have the energy to deny, so she let him assume and talk and quite frankly do whatever he liked — as long as he wasn't hurting her head. The distance between them prevented this so far.

"— and my saving grace Harold Potty supplied me with the information that you were asking him for the directions to the Head's office. So, I _walked and walked and walked_ and thought about how much I want to drown your annoying little arse in the black lake _and then_ I thought about how I'm going to cover up your murder _then_ I turned a corner _and another corner and another corner_ and here I am."

And there was her second mistake; not telling Harry to keep her whereabouts for the next hour a secret.

_Of course_ Theo would be curious. _Of course_ he'd be wondering after her. She'd think him an imbecile if he hadn't after the fuss he'd made about everything.

"So what did you tell Dumbledore?"

"It doesn't matter," Elara responded doefully, turning away from him and beginning her walk to the Hospital wing.

Bitterness laced her tongue as Dumbledore's words repeated in her mind. "He didn't give two shits about any of it."

A heavy breath left him and she saw his presence beside her out of the corner of her eye.

"Well that's good, then."

They turned right and Theo's shoes scuffed against the flagstone.

"Aren't you going to breakfast?" he questioned, obviously noting where they were walking.

When Elara didn't reply, he thought to explain his reason for asking.

"We have double Defence later. Wands out today."

Her temple palpitated. She ignored him.

"You'll get tired," Theo sang, knocking her shoulder with his in a teasing manner.

"And?" Elara snapped, teeth clenched together. The pain was subtly excruciating. "I need to make a trip to the hospital wing. I'm ill. So unless you plan on catching whatever I have I suggest you scurry on back to the Dungeons."

"Ah. Well. . . I wasn't going to say anything but you do look a bit peaky actually." His finger jabbed at her cheekbone and she slapped him away.

"Feisty. That time of the month?"

"Piss off."


End file.
